


Unexpected Gifts

by teh_gelfling



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Mentions of miscarriage, Polyamory, Slash, Transformer Sparklings, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 34,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_gelfling/pseuds/teh_gelfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praxians who've kindled have a difficult time carrying to term. What will happen when the <i>Ark</i>'s resident strategist just happens to be in this condition?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like it, leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers like and don't like about my stories.

“Hey, Prowler. Y'all right? Y'ain't lookin' so good.” Jazz put a steadying hand on the tactician's shoulder as the mech swayed slightly where he stood.

“I'm... not sure,” he answered truthfully. He'd been feeling queasy off and on for the last couple of weeks. Usually a cube of energon would settle his tanks, but there had been a few times when the mere thought of fuel would cause him to purge.

“When'd ya refuel last?” Worry brightened that blue visor.

“Four hours, eighteen minutes ago.” Which was part of the problem. His fuel levels had already dropped to 58%, and he'd been doing nothing more strenuous than his typical deskwork.

The Porsche gazed at him critically, then announced, “Yer goin' ta Ratchet, and y'ain't gonna argue with me.”

Prowl allowed the other black and white to steer him to medbay, grateful for the fact that they passed no one else on the way. His tanks roiled the entire way and he hoped the fuel within would stay there.

“Ratch!” Jazz called as they walked through the doors. “Got a mech out here who needs ya!”

“I swear, if the twins have been bowling for minibots again, I'll use them for spare parts!” the medic grumbled loudly as he emerged from his office.

“Nah, nothin' like that, Doc,” the TIC laughed, settling the Praxian on a berth. “'S Prowler here. Somethin' jus' ain't right.”

Ratchet fixed the SIC with a steely look. “This is what happens when you work yourself too hard and neglect your maintenance. You can go, Jazz.” He flapped a red hand dismissively at the Porsche. “All right, what's wrong?”

Prowl opened his mouth to speak and his fuel tank lurched at the same time, purging its contents all over the floor and Ratchet's feet. Doorwings slumped in humiliation as the CMO jumped back, cursing.

“Primus! What–” He cut himself off and pulled a clean rag out of his subspace and offered it to the tactician. “I was wrong. This is clearly something different. How long has this been going on?”

Wiping his mouth of the partially-cycled energon, he responded shakily, “A few weeks. My energy levels drop dramatically within three hours of refuelling, even when I'm not revisiting my meal.”

Ratchet snorted. “Well, that's certainly an interesting way of putting it. Let's have a look. I'll need access to your medical port.”

Prowl complied, retracting the little panel protecting his main med-port. He could feel the scans Ratchet was running on his systems and had to actively keep his firewalls from throwing the medic out. The CMO patted him absently on the shoulder, probably to offer a measure of comfort that Prowl was currently unable to take.

Though Ratchet did an admirable job of suppressing it, Prowl still felt the small jolt of surprise. “What is it?” he asked, immediately concerned.

The white mech disconnected their systems slowly, carefully looking over the SIC. “Well,” he began, “you're not dying, despite the way you might feel.”

Prowl frowned. “I didn't believe I was, but I am glad to have your confirmation. What is wrong?”

“Not so much _wrong_ as _unexpected_. You've kindled.”

The Praxian's face showed no hint of emotion, though his doorwings twitched almost imperceptibly. “I... see. Is there any chance you might be mistaken?” he asked, voice flat.

Ratchet frowned this time. “The only way to be more certain is to pop your chestplates and look at your spark.” He shook his helm. “You don't want the sparkling, do you?”

Prowl pushed off the berth. “I am not unhappy with the situation, Ratchet. More... concerned. May I go?”

The medic spluttered. The black and white raised a hand to forestall the building rant.

“Jazz brought me to you to find out what's wrong with me. I have a diagnosis, for which there is not much you can do, as I have no wish to terminate. I have enough experience with carriers to know what to expect now that I know. There is no logical reason to keep me here any longer.”

“You're lucky you're carrying or I'd beat you over the helm with my biggest wrench. The one I reserve for the twins.”

Prowl smirked. “While I appreciate the fact that you would make an exception for me in regards to the twins' wrench, I believe retreat would be strategically sound at the moment.” He suited actions to words and backed hastily away from the medic.

“Fine. Get out of here. You're feeling better if you can poke at me like that. Go refuel, and I'll send you an appointment schedule soon as I work it out. But I swear, you'd better not neglect yourself. Your fuel levels drop below 80%, you get a cube. No matter how many you've already had. That's an order.” Ratchet continued to grumble about stubborn mechs as Prowl made good his temporary escape.

~oOo~

“Prowl?” Bluestreak's tentative query was followed by a light tapping on the frame of the tactician's open office door and baby blue optics peeking in.

“We need to talk, cousin.” Smokescreen walked right in to the room as if he owned it and settled himself on the edge of Prowl's desk. “C'mon in, Blue, and close the door behind you.”

“What is this about, Smokescreen? I have a lot of work to get done.”

“Your reports will wait a few minutes. Did you really think you could hide it? From _me_?”

“I hide many things from you, you're going to have to be more specific.”

“You're carrying. I could feel the difference in your field from across the room. Subtle so far, so no one else will probably pick up on it for a while, but still.”

Bluestreak froze, wings dropping. “You're sparked?” he asked, excitement and fear in equal measure colouring his tone and field.

“I am, and before either of you start in on me, Ratchet is keeping a close optic on my condition. If at all possible, he'll keep things from going wrong.”

“But you know it'll happen.” Smokescreen frowned.

“It is a possibility. I have informed Ratchet of the potential dangers that could result from my carrying.”

“You should terminate it. We'll lose this war if you die from this.”

“No!” Both Prowl and Bluestreak said at the same time. The youngest looked horror-stricken at the idea.

“Smokey, no. What if nothing goes wrong? This'll be the first sparkling since the war broke out! Everyone will be so happy to have a sparkling around. I know I will. And you know that I'll help you take care of it and everything, right, Prowl? I mean, I love sparklings. I've always wanted, well, as many as I could have.”

“So it's worth losing both of them over a what if? 'What if everything works out just fine?' Well, what happens when something does go wrong? And you _know_ something will, Prowl. Even if it didn't run in the Praxian line in general, it definitely runs in our family's line. Your own carrier died! You _almost_ did! Mine did, and took my sibling with him. It's not safe, Prowl. Please. We can't risk it, risk you.”

Prowl rose from his chair, wings spread threateningly. “How _dare_ you! How dare you dictate to me what I should or should not do! You may be the elder, but that gives you no right to determine my fate. Or that of my sparkling.”

“Be realistic, cousin. Use that logic processor of yours. The odds are not in your favour. You’ve miscarried once. You're _going_ to miscarry again, more than likely, and you know very well that you may not survive this one. Have you told Ratchet _that_? Have you informed him of your _entire_ medical history? I doubt it.”

“Get out.”

“I can't believe that _I'm_ being the logical one here! You're too blind to see what's right in front of your optics. You're willing to risk Autobot lives – _friends'_ lives – on the off chance that you'll have a perfect gestation. Your tactical staff is good, _I'm_ good, Prowl, but we're not as good as you. Without you, the Decepticons _will_ win this war. Your plans have saved so many lives.”

A datapad hurtled at the blue mech's head and shattered against the wall when he ducked it. “I said get out! Get. _Out_!”

Smokescreen raised his hands and backed to the door, optics wide and warily watching the black and white for more datapads. “Just listen to reason, cousin,” he wheedled.

Prowl's optics blazed. “I do not want your _reason_!” he roared, wings rigid and frame poised to attack.

::Smokey, just go. Don't make things worse. Please. I'll try to calm him down, but you know he won't settle while you're here. Please, Smokey. I... I think he might really hurt you if you stay. He's not processing right right now.:: Bluestreak begged the elder Praxian, optics pleading.

Smokescreen looked back to Prowl just in time to find another datapad winging its way at his head. Wisely, he decided retreat was in order, but the door behind him was locked and he'd have to turn his back on his enraged cousin in order to get out. Suddenly, he wanted to be anywhere but that office.

::Keep him busy for a sec, Blue. Door's locked.::

::You told me to!:: the grey mech retorted. “Prowl. Hey, Prowl. He's leaving, see? He won't bother you any more, 'kay? Prowl?”

::I told you to _close_ it, not _lock_ it!:: Smokescreen snapped over the comm, and wasted no time in getting the door open. While before he could feel the slight shift in Prowl's field announcing his condition, now all he could sense from his cousin was murderous rage. He heard Bluestreak try pacifying the other mech, but with the way that field was filling the room, he only wanted to get out. As he finally ducked out the door, he heard a noise that sounded like it came from the very Pits of the Unmaker himself. Something thudded into the wall across the corridor and Smokey turned to see the hilt of an energon dagger sticking out of the wall exactly at spark level. There was a high-pitched, frightened squeak from the office, then the door was closed again and he was left alone.

His knees gave out and he fell to the decking in an ungraceful slump, doorwings limp on their hinges as he leaned back on his hands.

He'd... he'd just stay here a bit. Just until his spark settled down. Yeah.

He hoped Blue was okay.

~oOo~

“You know, for a psychologist, you have a lousy manner of dealing with pissed off mechs. And apparently no tact. Primus, Smokescreen, what were you thinking?” Ratchet prodded the blue mech's helm just behind the audial sensor.

“Um, I guess I wasn't?” He flinched at the poke. “You _do_ know my field is diversionary tactics, right? Not psychology. I never finished the training. War kinda got in the way, you know? _Someone_ found out I have some training, and bam, I'm suddenly the Ark's unofficial official shrink. And logic usually works with him.”

“Hmph,” was the reply. “True enough, though with him carrying, he's not going to be as driven by logic as usual. Then once manufacture begins, he'll only be using that battle computer and logic centre of his when he absolutely has to; the power drain would be too much for the constant use like he did before.”

“Yeah. I should've remembered from last time. I was stupid.”

“Last time?” Ratchet sounded surprised. No, shocked might be a better word for it. “Prowl's kindled before?”

Smokescreen sighed. “Yeah, and he'll probably kill me if he finds out I told you. But I'm worried about him, Ratch. He almost died last time, and the sparkling _did_. Common problem for us, but no less painful for it.”

“None of that is in his file. As far as records are concerned, he's as good as untouched.”

“And as far as most mechs here are concerned, he _is_ untouched. My cousin's not taken a lover for millennia before the exodus. And that's _our_ measure, not the humans'.”

“And now that he has, he's got himself sparked up because apparently neither of their inhibitor systems were working. Prowl's being very close-lipped about the whole thing, too; won't tell me who he was with.”

Smokescreen frowned. “If that's the case, I don't think this is a 'lovers' situation at all. Prowl's discreet with his relationships, but I've never known him to outright deny a lover's identity. I've also never known him to engage in flings, but that's what this is sounding like...”

Ratchet sighed and levered himself up off the stool. “Come on. We're going to sit in my office for a while with some good high grade, and you're going to tell me _exactly_ what I need to watch out for throughout this carry, particularly this 'common problem' you mentioned. I've never dealt with Praxians in this capacity.”

"You mean he didn't tell you?"

Ratchet's optics narrowed. "Tell me what, exactly?"

"He told me he'd, and I quote, 'informed Ratchet of the potential dangers that could result'."

"He told me he knew what to expect and that there wasn't much I could do."

"Huh. Fragger actually managed to _lie_ to me. That’s a first. Alright. Here's what Praxian gestation usually entails..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like it, please leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers liked and didn't like about my stories.

“Prowl?” Sideswipe poked his helm into the SIC's office and spotted the black and white as expected. The mech's back was to the door, which was a bit unusual as his desk was now also at his back.

What was completely unexpected, however, were the noises Prowl was making. He had a foot up on the filing cabinet behind his desk and was slumped into his chair, his doorwings arching as quiet grunts and gasps spilled from his vocaliser. Heat flooded Sideswipe's face as he registered that the Praxian had to be self-servicing. The white helm dropped backward as his frame locked up abruptly, a long, low, heavy moan escaping as overload washed over him.

Sideswipe quickly backed out of the office and closed the door again. He stood, staring blankly at the portal, until his comm pinged. Of _course_ it was Prowl. Even thoroughly distracted with chasing his overload, the mech had still registered his presence.

The crimson mech vented deeply, re-gathering his wits from wherever they had scattered and entered the tactician's domain again.

“Did you need something, Sideswipe?”

There was no indication of Prowl's... activities in his voice, and if Sideswipe hadn't seen said activities with his own optics, he'd never suspect. The SIC was looking at him expectantly. He cycled his vocaliser and dove in. “I heard a rumour. About you. Wanted to know if it's true.”

Prowl's mouth drew into a tight line. “You'll have to be more specific. Rumours about myself abound. Are you inquiring about the one that has me as the spawn of Unicron himself, or the one that implies I acquired and keep my post by servicing certain mechs? Perhaps one of the myriad others.”

“Just have to be difficult, don't ya?” the frontliner growled, but there was no real force behind it.

“I'm certain I don't know what you mean.”

“Of course not.” Lavender optics closed for a moment in frustration and their owner vented heavily. “Are you sparked?” Sound strategy for dealing with Prowl when the mech was like this – right to the point.

Ice blue optics blinked calmly. “I am.” Simple and direct.

Anger exploded into Sideswipe's field. “When were you going to tell me?” he demanded, the vehemence in his tone surprising even himself.

“Honestly?” Prowl's wings twitched, but his face remained impassive. “I wasn't. You have made it abundantly clear on multiple prior occasions that you have no interest in sparklings. I have no wish to burden you, particularly as it was a whim, a one-time 'thing', an accident, that produced the newspark. You have no responsibility here, as you prefer.”

The frontliner was stunned into silence. Feeling his twin's distress, Sunstreaker pinged him repeatedly through their bond, but Sideswipe had no response to give.

“If you have nothing further, I have work to do.”

Sideswipe snorted. “Some _work_ , chasing overloads,” he snapped before he could stop himself. He was feeling peevish with the tactician and he couldn't figure out why. It was true he'd never wanted sparklings. The mere mention could send him running, figuratively speaking. This one was his, however, and maybe that was the difference.

The red mech pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Sorry,” he apologised before Prowl could say anything. “You're not getting rid of me that easily, though. Fact is, I _do_ have a responsibility. If not to you, then at least to the bitlet.”

Prowl's wings drew back and his optics widened. “Are you sure you're Sideswipe?” he asked with an almost playful note to his voice.

Sides smirked. “You know, I'm not really as irresponsible as mechs make me out to be.”

An optic ridge rose. “Those 'mechs' you refer to being yourself first and foremost. You created your reputation all on your own by being an incurable prankster.”

Sideswipe waved the comment off and sat in the chair in front of Prowl's desk. “Well, it's mostly stress relief. And a way to get attention. You wouldn't want two of Sunny around here, right?” He grinned at the look of distress that crossed the tactician's face. “You'll notice I don't blow off duty shifts or anything for my pranks.”

“I always thought that was for an alibi or plausible deniability.”

Crimson shoulders shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, that's just a perk. Although it doesn't usually seem to work out so well...”

Prowl stretched in his seat and flexed his doorwings, then rose. As the Datsun stretched again, Sideswipe found his gaze drawn to a point under the mech's bumper which was just beginning to bow outward. “How far along?”

“Hmm? About fourteen orns now. Construction has begun, and Ratchet says I won't be able to keep it from anyone in another couple orns. It'll be obvious that I'm carrying. But that's assuming...” He cut himself off and leaned against his desk, optics closed.

“Assuming what?” Sideswipe asked. Prowl didn't answer, didn't move except for minute twitches of his doorwings. “Hey, are you okay?”

It took a moment, but the black and white finally responded. “Quite. If you'll excuse me...” His voice was tight, strained, his words clipped. The mech was obviously very far from okay.

Sides rose, reaching out to the other as the mech moved past him on the way to the door. “Prowl...”

“I'm _fine_.” The words were practically spit at the warrior.

“No, you're not. Stop being so fragging stubborn. You _can_ ask for help, you know.” A black hand was laid on a white shoulder, just enough to get the mech's attention.

“Let me go. I have to–” Optics flickered and suddenly went dark, and Prowl's frame went limp and slipped toward the decking. Sideswipe was already on the comm to Ratchet by the time he caught the tactician.

_::Bring him here, if you can,::_ Ratchet told him. No bitching, no rants, just a sharp order. Slag.

::I'm assuming 'here' is medbay. On my way. Primus, the mech is heavier than he looks.::

_::Just get your afts to medbay.::_ The connection cut.

Ratchet was worried. This was not a good thing.

~oOo~

“What's wrong with him?” Sideswipe asked, voice tight and field flush with worry.

“Didn't I tell you to get out?” Ratchet shot back, busy running scans on the unconscious tactician. “You've done your duty in bringing him here. I don't need you to stay and pester me while I'm trying to work.”

“I'm not leaving.”

Ratchet paused in his scans just long enough to level a glare at the frontliner. “Yes, you are. I _will_ call Optimus. And Grimlock owes me a favour. Or ten. Either way, you're going.”

“No.” The red mech planted a hand on the berth Prowl lay on, right in front of the medic. “I'm not. You're going to tell me what's wrong with him _right now_ ,” he growled. The stubborn set to his jaw said he wasn't going to be moved easily.

“Sideswipe, my hand to Primus, if you don't leave, I'll never get these scans done. Get out of my way.” He pushed at the warrior to try to get him to move.

And of course, he didn't.

An alert from one of the scans rolled across Ratchet's HUD and his optics paled. Emergency protocols kicked in and he was yelling across the 'bay for whichever mech was on assistant duty that shift. “Nonono. Prowl, no,” he muttered at the black and white.

“Ratchet. Ratchet, tell me what's going on. What's happening to Prowl?” Sideswipe was nearly frantic now.

“Get out of the way, Sideswipe!” Ratchet put his strength behind the push this time and the frontliner went reeling to crash onto his aft and was promptly forgotten as Wheeljack rushed past. “Help me move him, 'Jack.”

“Righto. What's goin' on?” the Lancia asked as they manoeuvred Prowl into a private ward.

The last thing Sideswipe heard was Ratchet say something about “the newspark.” He was on his feet, following the medics in an instant, but too late as he heard the beep of the lock engaging as he bounced off the door. He pounded furiously on the metal, screaming to be let in. “NO! Ratchet! Let. Me. IN! Ratchet, you hear me!? That's _my **sparkling**!_ You can't keep me out! Ratchet! I'll break down this door! Let me in! _My_ sparkling!”

The door remained stubbornly closed, and Ratchet didn't answer.

Arms transformed into piledrivers.

The first strike sent vibrations through the deck.

The second put a dent in the thick door.

The third began a stress fracture where the metal was buckling.

The fourth never landed.

Large blue hands closed over his arms, preventing him from moving. “Sideswipe,” a deep, calm voice said from just behind him. “Stop this. You will not help Prowl by interrupting Ratchet right now.”

“I-I have to. I h-have to know. 'S my sparkling...” The red mech crumpled into his leader's arms.

Blue optics widened a fraction. “Yours? Prowl is carrying your sparkling?”

“Mn-hm. Crazy, huh? I drive him nuts. Still dunno why I asked him. Still dunno why he said yes. Didn't think he'd take me seriously. And I didn't mean to spark him, y'know? Shouldn'a happened.”

“He is fond of you, even so. You provide a challenge, and I have yet to see Prowl back down from such.”

“Challenge to his sanity, maybe.” He burrowed further into Optimus. “He doesn't even _like_ me...”

The Prime sighed. Oh the angst of a young, distressed Lamborghini... “Sideswipe, if Prowl didn't like you, do you truly think any of this would have happened? I'm certain he wouldn't interface with a mech he disliked. For any reason.”

The frontliner's nose poked a window pane on the larger mech's chest as he turned to cuddle even closer. “...guess not.” His voice was rather muffled and melancholy.

“There, you see? Don't worry about that.”

“But what if we lose the sparkling? Ratchet felt _scared_ , Prime, like he does when Sunny’s on his operating table and he's not sure he'll pull through. He was scared. And _I'm_ scared.”

Prime sighed. “We will trust in Ratchet's skills and pray for the best.”


	3. Chapter 3

Several hours later, Ratchet finally emerged from Prowl's ward. Sideswipe looked up from where he was huddled in his twin's arms, the look in his optics spark-wrenchingly lost. Optimus had long since gone, having duties that needed to be attended in Prowl's absence, but there was a message in Ratchet's queue requesting an update on the tactician's status as soon as was prudent.

“He's stable, for now,” he reported, both aloud for the frontliners and over comm to the Prime.

_::I am glad to hear it, old friend.::_

“A-and... the sparkling...?”

Primus, the young mech sounded no older than a sparkling himself with that small, frightened voice.

He sighed. “Also stable, but weak. And what the frag was that about, putting a dent in my door?”

The red warrior looked at the deck. “I panicked,” he whispered. A little louder, he asked, “Can I see them?”

“Prowl's in medical stasis right now; he's not exactly up to visitors.”

Youthful features hardened into a stubborn mask. “That wasn't a no,” he pointed out. “I just want to sit with him for a while. I'll be good, won't bother anything.”

“You, too, Sunny?”

The golden twin declined with a shake of his helm. “I have shift in an hour, and some things that need done before that. And Prowl and me... we're not exactly on the best of terms.”

“All right. Ground rules apply, and don't move anything that's attached to him. Most of it's monitoring equipment, and most of that's focussed on the newspark. Prowl's going to come out of stasis on his own, and I don't know when that'll be. I have to do some reports, but I'll be in to check on him when I'm done. Got that?” At Sideswipe's sharp nod, he said, “You know where he is.”

The frontliner scrambled out of his twin's grasp and bolted into the room Ratchet had emerged from.

“Sunstreaker. Can you tell me why your brother panicked over Prowl?”

The yellow mech scowled. “From what I can gather, he was afraid he was going to lose something he never thought he wanted.”

“The sparkling.”

“Or Prowl.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug and there was an undercurrent of icy bitterness in his field. “He's kinda laid claim to both.”

“He was yelling about how the sparkling was his. Is it?”

A bitter half-smile. “Unless Prowl's been sparking with someone else. That was a sight I'd give anything to erase from memory.” He kept his field close so the medic wouldn't see the lie behind his words.

Ratchet caught on anyway. “Hottest thing you've seen, huh?”

The look the golden warrior gave was pure acid. Sunstreaker spun on his heel and marched out of medbay without a word.

The medic snickered. Well, enough baiting the Lamborghini. Time to get to those reports.

 

 

Prowl looked a lot smaller without his chest armour.

He also looked a lot younger when he was in recharge.

Sideswipe tucked his helm in under the tactician's chin, careful not to disturb anything. He was admirably resisting the urge to climb up on the berth and just cuddle the mech. He _needed_ the contact, but was reasonably sure that Prowl wouldn't exactly appreciate it if he woke and found himself wrapped in large snoozing frontliner.

Well, he was reasonably sure Prowl wouldn't appreciate it if he woke up in the _presence_ of large snoozing frontliner, either, but at this point he didn't really care. Sideswipe was a rather physical mech, and liked close contact. Needed it, sometimes. It helped calm him more often than not, and was generally a faster and more reliable method than sparring or shooting.

And with the scare he'd gotten, he wanted all the contact he could get. He'd risk the tactician's wrath for cuddles.

Even if they were just the helm-under-chin kind.

The low rumble of his engine had a hitch in it and his field radiated his distress, though he tried to rein it in. The longer he sat there, though, the calmer he grew, just basking in the Praxian's recharge-relaxed field. There was just a bit of extra energy to it, like a very faint second presence, that he assumed was the newspark. He laid a hand next to the gap in Prowl's protoform where his spark peeked through, feeling the thrum of energy through his fingertips.

A warm calm settled over him as he sat there, tucked into the black and white as much as he dared, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Optics slid closed and he let out a deep vent, frame relaxing by degrees as he lightly nuzzled Prowl's neck. Somehow, this felt... right.

“Comfortable?”

“Mm... yup.” Sides replied to the quiet question with a happy mumble, only to snap upright when he realised who had spoken.

Prowl looked at him from the berth, optics dim and half-lidded, clearly not fully alert. “Didn' hafta get up,” he murmured.

“Prowl! Are you okay? Do I need to get Ratchet? Primus, you scared me. No, don't get up. I'll get Ratch.”

“Not goin' anywhere, don' get Ratchet. 'Mback here.” A white hand twitched in what was supposed to be a come here motion, but didn't quite have the energy for.

“Um, I'm just gonna go let Ratch know you woke up, 'kay? Then I'll come back?” The way the tactician was speaking had Sideswipe just a little worried. His speech was never that informal.

“Hm,” came the reply. Prowl seemed to be slipping back into recharge quickly.

Probably for the best. Sides didn't know what had happened, but recharge was usually the best healer. He slipped out of the ward with silent tread and headed to Ratchet's office.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey.”

Ratchet’s helm raised and aqua optics locked onto lavender. “Something wrong?” No, that wasn't a smidge of worry in his tone.

Sides shook his helm. “Nah. Don't think so, anyway. Just letting you know that Prowl woke up just for a minute. I think he's already back in recharge, but he was kinda acting funny.”

Ratchet chuckled. “He probably wasn't even really awake. Dreaming or something.”

“But... we don't dream. Right?”

“Well, not usually. Not like humans do.” The CMO gestured to a chair and leaned back in his own as the frontliner sat. “You know all about memory purges and recharge flux, and that's all completely normal for us. Dreams, not so much, but Prowl gets them on occasion. Couple others, too. Personally, I think it's a sign of being too organised and dreams are their processors' way of throwing chaos back into the mix. 'Balance is good for the spark' and all that slag.” He kicked off his desk, rolling his chair over to the small energon dispenser he kept in the office. He overshot and threw a hand out to snag the counter, bringing himself to an abrupt halt. “Want some?” he asked cheekily.

Sideswipe couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. “Um, yeah. I guess. I could probably use some. When did you start doing that?”

“What, the chair thing? Always. But none of you slaggers ever see it because I only keep a rolly-chair in my office, and no one is ever in here long enough. I'm not always a grump, you know. I can have fun once in a while.” He finished with the dispenser and kicked off again, with less force this time, returning to his previous position in a gentle glide. “Sunny pretty well confirmed that you actually are the sparkling's sire.”

The red mech fumbled the cube of energon Ratchet handed to him, but managed to recover before he dropped it. “Yeah. Suppose he'd know. I got enough of an audial full over it.”

“I get the feeling he's not very happy about the situation.”

A snort. “Ya think?” He took a drink, then stared into the cube for a moment. “Don't say anything to him, alright? But I kinda think he's, well, jealous. And I'd probably feel the same if everything were reversed.”

“Jealous? Yeah... I can see that. You managed to get the mech he's crushing on – hard – into berth, then knock him up? I'm honestly surprised jealous is the extent of it. Lot of mechs wouldn't stop there.”

“Wait, what? Sunny doesn't have a cru- Oh my Primus, he does. Sigma, I'm stupid. And blind. What am I going to do?”

“Calm down, for starters.” Ratchet took a long pull, then set the cube aside. “You're not going to do anyone any good if you're panicking. I thought you'd learned that from earlier.”

“Yeah. Calm. I'm fragging everything up, aren't I? Sunny's gonna kill me, Prowl's gonna kill me... Who else?”

“No one's killing you. If Sunny was going to, he'd have done it already, but that's a bit counter-productive. He'd be offing himself in the process. Prowl, for some reason, is ridiculously happy about the situation, so it's unlikely he'll try to kill you, either.”

“That's happy?”

“Trust me. I've been around him long enough to know what happy looks like. He's deliriously happy.”

“Huh.” He fiddled with his cube for a moment. “So what should I do?”

“What do you want? No, seriously. Take some time and decide what you want out of the situation. If you want Prowl and the newspark, go after them. But don't make an aft of yourself if you do. And consider Sunstreaker in this, too. If you do decide to court Prowl, what about your brother?”

Sideswipe's mouth opened and closed a couple times before he snapped it shut and slumped in his chair. “I don't know. I don't know what he wants. And if we both want Prowl, would he want both of us? I don't know if he'd be into a trine-type thing, yanno? Do you think Praxians are like Seekers like that?”

Ratchet chuckled. “It's actually the other way around. Seekers got a lot of their coding and a fair bit of their culture from Praxus; the need for a trine is one. So far, Bluestreak and Smokescreen have served as a makeshift trine for Prowl, but I know Blue at least has his optic on another mech, and no, I'm not telling who. Smokey, who knows. He seems to like being single. Or maybe Blue and Prowl are enough for him and he doesn't need more. They're all family, you know. So if you do decide to court Prowl, you'd better get yourself in good with them, too.”

“I... didn't know that. Like, any of that. I mean, I knew Prowl and Blue were close, but I didn't know they were related."

"Yeah. Prowl and Smokescreen are full cousins. Blue's something like a third cousin once removed. Praxian lineage gets confusing, though, so don’t worry about understanding it right off.”

“Hm.” He sat back in his chair and slowly drank his energon. Lavender optics flickered, their owner lost in thought. Ratchet let the silence stretch out, and soon turned back to his reports. Sideswipe had much to contemplate, and it was best if he was left to it.

 

*

 

“So.”

“What?” Two more keystrokes, and the medic turned back to the red mech.

“What happened to him, anyway? Why’d Prowl collapse like that?”

Ratchet sighed. “The only reason I’m talking to you about this is that the sparkling is yours as well as Prowl’s. The newspark was trying to detach prematurely. Another couple weeks or so and it would’ve been fine -- early, but fine -- but frame construction only just began three days ago. The spark chamber is just framework right now, with micron-thin sheets of crystal between, and not nearly strong enough to house a spark yet. Also, there’s an energy bond between Prowl’s spark and the little one. As the newspark grows, the bond will narrow and eventually snap, which is when it should descend and take up residence in the frame.”

“But it was early.”

“Yup. And the shock of the attempt to detach was what put Prowl down. We caught it in time, and the bond is still there, but it's a lot weaker than it should be at this stage. It was a very good thing you were there, and that you got him here as fast as you did. You did good, kid.” Ratchet’s terminal bleeped. “You wanna sit with him some more? Monitors just indicated he’s rebooting, and I need to check on him.”

Sideswipe bounced up and scurried back to the ward Prowl occupied.


	5. Chapter 5

“No, Prowl. Not even light duty.”

The CMO wasn’t going to budge on this, Prowl knew, but he had to have something to do. Even with his tac-net offline, he would go stir-crazy within a day. “At least let me have some of my datapads. There is work to be done, and I can do much of it from them.”

Ratchet’s lips thinned. Datawork would be acceptable, as long as the Praxian kept it to a reasonable amount. “Three pads at a time, plus one for personal use. But that’s it. And you’re not going to go collecting signatures, either. Prime or whoever can come to you, or you can have someone take the thing to them, but you are not going gallivanting through the Ark.”

“Five. I’ll go through them too quickly.”

“Two. If you’re going to argue, I’m dropping how much you can do.”

“Fine. Three will suffice.”

“Glad you see it my way. You can have visitors, too, you know. You’re not in quarantine, just enforced bed rest.”

“Not many who willingly socialise with me.”

“You’d be surprised, Prowl. In addition to Prime, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Jazz, and Sideswipe bugging me about your condition, I’ve had Sunstreaker, Cliffjumper, Huffer, all five Aerials, and _Grimlock_ of all mechs ask how you’re doing.”

“I do _not_ want to see Smokescreen.”

“As you wish. He’s really worried for you, though.”

"Smokescreen is only ever worried about Smokescreen. There is not a strut in his frame that's not concerned with his own well-being over that of anyone else.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?”

“My cousin is and always has been an aft, though a charismatic one. I am not surprised he's as well-liked as he is here on the Ark, but I do not understand it. He was disowned by our clan well before the fall of Praxus for dishonouring his family, and he has not changed in all that time as far as I can see. Now I would prefer to be done with the subject.”

“I’ll keep him out of here, per your wishes. Anyone else?”

“Everyone? With the exception of Bluestreak. And Prime and Jazz.”

“If people ask, what do you want me to tell them?”

“Whatever it takes to get them to go. Without going into anything resembling detail.”

“And what about Sideswipe?”

The mech seemed to deflate. He was quiet for a while, thinking. “Sideswipe is welcome to visit if he wishes. Sunstreaker also. By Praxian law, they are family now. I will not dishonour that,” he finally said.

“Good. They're good kids, despite being a pain in my aft. And Sides seems to genuinely care for you and the sparkling. Sunstreaker also, but he's more reserved about it.”

“Nearly everything about Sunstreaker is reserved, I've noticed.”

Ratchet smirked. “I think you need to get to know him better before you make judgments on his character.”

“I will take that under advisement.”

“I'll comm Jazz and have him bring your datapads around later. Get some rest; you look like scrap.”

Prowl gave a flat look and Ratchet retreated with a laugh.

*

“Hey there. How ya doing?”

“Jazz,” Prowl greeted. “Do you have my datapads?”

Jazz laughed. “You're doing fine if you're askin’ for work. Just make sure ya take it easy. Don't want ya stressing your systems any. And them’s orders from Optimus hisself, so don't go thinking ya can disobey them.”

Prowl sighed dramatically. “Very well.”

They sat and talked about the goings-on of the _Ark_ for a while until Jazz noticed Prowl’s optics dimming just a bit and the very slight hesitances before he spoke. Then Jazz tactfully took his leave.

On his way out, he popped into Ratchet’s office to let him know he’d been there and to invite him to the night’s poker game.

“Honestly, Jazz. Do you think I can leave Prowl here in medbay and not expect him to try something? My poker nights are done until his sparkling emerges.”

“Tell me honest, Doc. How’s he doin’?”

“Jazz…”

“I ain’t asking for anything other than your opinion on how he’s doin’. Don’t need to know exactly what’s goin’ on with him, don’t need to know everything he’s goin’ through. I just want to know if I should be worried for my friend.”

“Short answer is yes, you should be worried. But that’s why I’ve got him here instead of in his quarters, _and_ in that particular room. But in general, he’s doing as well as I can expect him to. He gets tired easily; most carriers do, but he takes it almost to the extreme. And he’ll never admit it, so I’m just waiting for him to conk out in the middle of a conversation or visit.”

“I thought he looked a bit rough.”

Ratchet snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last of the pre-written stuff. I'm going to try to stick with my Sunday updates, but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to make it every week.

“Smokescreen,” Ratchet called to the mech purposefully stalking toward the private rooms. “Smokescreen! Get your aft back here!” He swore to himself. “I’m sorry, Sunstreaker, I’ll be back.”

He caught the Praxian just as he found the room Prowl was in. “What the frag do you think you’re doing!? I’ve already told you he doesn’t want to see you. Do you seriously want to stress him out so he has another episode? Maybe lose the sparkling this time?”

“You let everyone except me in there. I have a right to see him.”

“No, you don’t. Prowl’s wishes are paramount in this situation, and he _explicitly_ said you were not allowed to see him. And I only let a few mechs in. Now get out of here unless you have an actual medical emergency.”

“No.” The stubborn set to his doorwings was exactly like Prowl’s.

“Smokey, please don’t make me remove you physically.”

“You won’t have to, Ratchet. _I_ will,” Sunstreaker said ominously, looming over the blue mech. “And if he resists, I’ll _give_ him a medical emergency.”

Despite the frontliner’s fearsome reputation, Smokescreen didn’t back down. “I can’t believe you’re letting him threaten me!”

“I’m sure you remember what happened the last time you saw Prowl. I seem to recall there was an energy dagger involved. I haven’t disarmed him. You want that happening again?”

“It’s not going to happen, because he’s not going in there,” Sunstreaker growled. “If you endanger that newspark in any way, I will kill you. And you going into Prowl’s room constitutes endangering the newspark.”

“No killing him, Sunstreaker. He's an Autobot and still an asset to the army, and you don't want to go through the court-martial that would happen if you killed him. Think of what that would do to your brother. But Smokescreen, unless you have a genuine reason for being in here, I don’t want to see your face. You’re being unreasonable, and I don’t have the patience for it.”

“ _I’m_ being unreasonable!? This miscreant just threatened to kill me, and I’m the unreasonable one. Just let me in to see my cousin.”

“Sunstreaker, escort our friend here out. And don’t be gentle.”

Sunstreaker’s smile would strike fear into the most stalwart of sparks. “Gladly.” He grabbed hold of a doorwing firmly and pulled. Smokescreen automatically moved with him in order to protect the sensitive appendage, though the expression on his face spoke of thinly veiled rage and the pain the golden mech was inflicting with his grip.

A shove between the doorwings propelled Smokescreen out into the corridor off-balance, and he had to flail to keep himself upright. Sunstreaker followed him out and pinned him against the opposite wall.

“I meant it when I said I’d kill you if you endangered the sparkling. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it’s family. And I protect my own. So stay away if you know what’s good for you.”

“Your own. Prowl’s sparkling is yours?”

“It’s not your business. Last time I’m saying this: Stay. Away.” He spun on his heel and marched back into medical, the doors closing firmly behind him.

*

Sideswipe was elated. The sparkling was gaining strength, and though Prowl was tired a lot, he was in good spirits.

“Go on, try it. Ratchet said you prefer your energon sweet, so I played around with the dispenser a bit and I think you’ll like this.”

Prowl looked dubiously at the container of deep magenta energon with flecks of silver and gold suspended in it, then back at Sideswipe. “You did put the dispenser back to its usual settings when you were finished, correct?”

“Of course. Please, just try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll drink it. I thought it tasted pretty good, myself.” He bounced on his feet, excited.

Prowl gave a long-suffering sigh and took a sip. It was more viscous than he was used to, and the metals gave it bit of a tang, but it was sweet without being overpowering. In fact, it was reminiscent of a certain type of gelled sweet he’d favoured when he was younger and Praxus was still flourishing.

“So? What do you think?”

Prowl opened his optics, unsure when he’d closed them, and gave the younger mech a tired smile. “It is very good. Thank you.” He took another sip and suppressed a sigh. He was tired, but Sideswipe was so enthusiastic that it was always difficult to turn the mech away.

Sideswipe watched Prowl’s optics slide closed again and the energon cube begin to tip before Prowl caught himself. “Um, maybe I should go? You can put the energon on the table there and it should keep.”

“I’m fine.” The protest was weak, though.

“Prowl, you’re falling asleep sitting up. Don’t make me come up there and cuddle you to sleep.”

“The horror.” Prowl gave a lopsided smile.

“You say that like you’d actually let me.”

“Perhaps that was my intention all along.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Prowl?”

This time Prowl did sigh. “I assure you, Sideswipe, that I am indeed Prowl. However, I am finding myself in need of reassurance and physical affection, so ‘cuddles’ would be appreciated. Unless you are not averse to... _more_?”

“More?” The look on the red mech’s face suggested that he was pretty sure he knew what Prowl was referring to.

“Yes. And I can see that you know what I’m talking about.”

That got Sideswipe a bit flustered. “Um, how about we discuss that after you’ve had a nap? I don’t think you’re thinking straight. And I think you’d fall asleep before we got to the good part, anyway.”

Prowl huffed, but he was too tired to argue the point. And Sideswipe was right. He made room on the berth for the frontliner and splayed a hand over his chest when Sideswipe lay down. He cuddled in close and pillowed his head on the red chest and just let the rhythm of the spark within lull him to sleep. Within minutes, he was out, leaving Sideswipe to listen to the hum of his systems as the Lamborghini’s own slowly spun down.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter. Sunday was busy and exhausting and I actually forgot to post this chapter before falling asleep. So again, apologies.

Sunstreaker watched his brother and Prowl sleep. They looked good together; clean black and white on glossy cherry red. His spark constricted a little with jealousy, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the situation. He’d hoped to talk with Sideswipe ever since he’d found his brother and Prowl together, but he could never find the words to say what he wanted, no, _needed_ to say. So he said nothing, and his pain grew a little more difficult to bear with each day.

He wasn’t a physically affectionate mech and everyone knew it. Of course, most mechs on base would say the only thing physical about him was his tendency to get into fights, and there wasn’t an affectionate strut in his frame. Sideswipe knew different, but there were very few others who’d ever seen him show any kind of affection.

And then Ratchet seemed to have an inkling of his feelings on the current situation. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The medic was far too perceptive for his taste sometimes. He supposed as long as Ratchet didn’t go running his mouth it would be fine. Though he couldn’t remember a time when the medic had told anyone anything about him that wasn’t necessary.

At any rate, he needed to talk to his brother, and the sooner, the better.

Resolve stiffened, he turned and left the room. As soon as he could get Sideswipe alone, they’d have a talk.

*

Ratchet watched Sunstreaker leave medical with a new determination in his frame language. He’d obviously made some kind of decision. Ratchet just hoped that it wasn’t one that would end with a mech or mechs in his care. It had been nice and quiet recently, even with a few scuffles with the Decepticons, and apart from minor duty-related injuries, Prowl was the only mech currently in medical.

He was in recharge more often than not any more, as the newspark took all the energy it could. It was getting stronger, but still not up to normal standards. Prowl wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Ratchet had warned him that even if he carried to term, there could be complications with the birth, and possibly some defects with the sparkling. Prowl didn’t seem to care. He’d said as long as he had his sparkling, it would be perfect.

Sideswipe had been a little more worried. Ratchet thought he was more afraid of the possible complications with the birth than anything else. The thought of possibly losing Prowl had distressed the poor Lamborghini enough that he’d had a small panic attack. Obviously that hadn’t been Ratchet’s intention, but they both needed to know the truth about the situation.

He sighed and went to check on Prowl and visit with him for a time. He knew Prowl was beyond bored and unable to focus on his work for long periods of time now, so he’d taken to updating the Praxian on the base gossip. He knew Bluestreak would do the same thing, but their pool to draw from was a bit different, and mechs would tell Blue things they wouldn’t tell Ratchet.

Prowl was asleep when Ratchet entered the room. So much for visiting. But he did a quick check of the mech’s vitals and studied the monitor keeping tabs on the newspark. Pleased with the results, he left the Praxian in peace.

*

“Sides, we need to talk.” Sunstreaker blurted out.

“Ookay… What’s this about?”

“Prowl. I know you like him and you’re having a sparkling together, but I can’t sit by and just watch any more. I have to let you know --”

“That you like him, too. Yeah, I know. Been thinking about that a lot. You know I love you and would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. If you want, we could run it by Prowl, see if he’d be interested in a package deal…”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course, Sunny. Ratchet told me that most Praxian bondings are trines anyway, so it couldn’t hurt to ask. And really, I should have thought about you before we found out Prowl was carrying. You’re my brother and my lover and we share practically everything. And I’m sorry.”

Sunstreaker crowded his twin against the wall and kissed him senseless. Kisses turned to groping, turned to full-on interfacing, and Sideswipe let himself be washed away in the sensations.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hokay, jumping into mature audiences material here, so rating is changed accordingly. And holy balls, this chapter fought me, I tell you what.

Prowl watched Sunstreaker fidget in his chair.

Sideswipe would normally be sitting there, but he had a shift and had asked his brother to sit with Prowl for a while. The silence was uncomfortable, but Prowl didn’t know how to break it, and Sunstreaker wouldn’t, so the tension just built.

The golden mech’s field was a riot of emotion, though he tried to keep it under control and close to his frame. Prowl had never seen the frontliner so conflicted. It was disturbing.

Finally, after an hour, he could take no more.

“Sunstreaker, what’s wrong?” he asked, worry colouring his tone and field.

“Nothing.” A stock response and a lie if ever Prowl had heard one.

“It’s not nothing. Your field is so conflicted and it’s concerning. I will tell no one of anything you say, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just talk to me.”

The frontliner twitched and wouldn't meet his gaze. “Has Sideswipe said anything about me?”

“He’s mentioned you on several occasions. He loves you very much.”

Yellow fingers gripped black helm briefly in frustration. “No. I mean has he mentioned -- frag. I don’t -- Has he mentioned you and him and me?”

So that’s what this was about. Sunstreaker had always seemed more surly around him, but he supposed that could have been a mask. He seemed to wear them a lot.

“Not in so many words. But he has asked me if I would be interested in a trine.”

Sunstreaker looked crushed yet hopeful at the same time. “And?” he asked hesitantly.

Prowl let his field wash over the warrior. The peace and comfort he felt in his presence. The acceptance of the frontliner. “And I told him I would be, if the right mech came along. I would assume you’re interested?”

“Absolutely.” He shut his mouth with a click of teeth once he realised what he’d said, and looked ready to bolt for the door.

“Good. Would you be interested in a trial run?” Prowl's voice smoothed out into a deeper, mellow tenor.

Sunstreaker side-eyed him. “What exactly do you mean?”

Prowl smiled. “I’d like to know how well we… _work_ together.”

Sunstreaker gaped. “Is that… Did you just proposition me?”

“Yes. Are you interested?”

Sunstreaker bit his lip and nodded. A blush crept across his face and all the turmoil in his field abruptly turned to shyness and arousal.

“Come here.” Prowl patted the bedside and Sunstreaker moved almost on autopilot. “Kiss me?”

A quick, chaste kiss on Prowl’s lips had him giggling quietly. When Sunstreaker looked askance at him, he said, “Kiss me like a lover?”

This time the kiss lingered, though it was still mostly chaste. Then another kiss, and Sunstreaker ran the tip of his tongue over Prowl’s lower lip. Another, and a warm tongue slipped briefly into Prowl’s mouth to taste and test. With each kiss, Sunstreaker became a little more bold. After several more kisses, Sunstreaker’s hands came into play, first caressing the bump of Prowl’s belly where the sparkling’s frame was being built, then moving up to caress the bare protoform of Prowl’s chest. One hand slipped around the Praxian’s back while the other moved up to cup his cheek and deepen the kiss.

Frames heated and Prowl felt more energised than he had in months. Just Sunstreaker’s shy kissing had turned him on so much he felt his valve already leaking behind his panel. If he kept this gentleness up, Prowl could see them working _very_ well together.

The hand on his back moved up to the joint between his doorwings. Nimble fingers played the sensor clusters there like a virtuoso and he moaned into Sunstreaker’s mouth. A growl rumbled out from the frontliner’s engine and the arousal in his field spiked.

Kisses became more urgent, desperate almost. There was disbelief and awe mixed in with the arousal in Sunstreaker’s field, and Prowl wondered if he was the cause of it, then decided that that was a terribly self-indulgent thing to think. And then his thoughts were stolen by the wonderful, dextrous gentleness that was Sunstreaker’s hand settling over his interface panel.

It parted immediately, exposing him to the frontliner’s questing fingers. They traced a delicate pattern around the lips of his valve, pausing just long enough at his nub to lightly pinch it and roll the pad of the thumb over it.

Prowl gasped and Sunstreaker took the opportunity to move more fully onto the berth, hovering over the Praxian. 

“You really want me?” The quiet question was tinged with nervousness. Lavender optics bored into Prowl’s ice-blues.

Prowl held the gaze and pushed his array up harder into Sunstreaker’s hand. “Yes, I want you. Just as much as I want your brother. I want to feel you inside me and beside me. I want you to be a part of my life other than as the mech I have to discipline for infighting. I want to get to know you like Sideswipe does. I want you to be here because you want to be, not because your brother made you promise you would sit with me.”

“I am. I mean, I’m here for you. I want to be here. With you. I’ve wanted that for a long time. But you’re you, and I’d never have a chance. And then the thing with Sides... I was furious with him. And now… am I really here, or is this some kind of hallucination?”

“I’m here, and I assure you this is no hallucination. Please, Sunstreaker. I want you.”

Sunstreaker kissed Prowl again, then began moving down his frame, leaving trails of kisses as he went. He settled between Prowl’s parted legs and looked up at the mech as he stuck out his tongue and flicked the little glowing nub at the apex of the valve neatly spread open for him.

Prowl reacted like he’d been struck by lightning. His entire body stiffened and he gave out a shout. White hands reached blindly for Sunstreaker’s helm, and when they found it, held him there.

Sunstreaker licked and sucked at Prowl’s nub and valve lips. His tongue delved into the passage between them, licking out sweet, tangy lubricant and savouring it before going back for more. His hands snaked under Prowl’s legs, encouraging him to pull his feet up and bend his knees. He stroked the cabling in the top sides of the hip gimbals as he pulled Prowl closer to him. The noises the Praxian was making were beautiful. He was loud in his pleasure, leaving no doubt in Sunstreaker’s mind that he was truly enjoying himself.

And oh, was he. Overload was closing in fast, and Sunstreaker’s talented tongue and mouth were hurrying it along. Tingles were radiating out from his array through his entire frame, and there was what felt like a pressure building there, and it felt so _good_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the schmoop. It snuck in there somehow, and I didn't know how to remove it without irreparably damaging the whole thing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a miracle! I managed to get this chapter done. My smut muse had abandoned me for far too long, and I'm so glad she's back for the time being (because I know she's going to flit off again eventually).

Prowl opened his optics to see Sunstreaker smirking down at him, wiping fluids off of his chin with a soft cloth.

“That was a good one, huh?” the golden mech asked cheekily.

“Primus, yes. You have an amazing mouth.” His voice was fuzzy with static. A click sounded as he reset his vocaliser. “Are you ready to show me what the rest of you can do?” he asked while suggestively running his fingers up and down Sunstreaker’s side.

He felt the little shiver that ran through the golden frame at his touch, the tiny hitch of vents. Saw the irising mechanisms in Sunstreaker’s optics spiral wide. Oh, yes. The mech was more than ready. He lifted himself onto his elbows to give the golden mech a kiss.

“How do you want me?” Prowl asked, voice husky.

“Just the way you are.”

“Cute.”

“No, I mean it. As long as you’re comfortable, just stay like that. I like it when you watch me.”

“All right,” Prowl acquiesced readily.

Sunstreaker started with a slow, sensual kiss while his hand smoothed over the rounded planes of Prowl’s belly, caressing the protrusion that was creating his brother’s sparkling. A little lower and his fingers found the slick opening of Prowl’s valve and circled it, teasing the nodes at the edges. He buried one finger in to the first knuckle and wiggled it a bit, setting off the sensor clusters it touched. He very slowly dragged the finger back out, then slid it back in, further this time. Each repetition had Prowl almost squirming; it felt good, but wasn’t nearly enough.

Then Sunstreaker stepped it up a notch and started over, with two fingers this time. They slid through the lubricants Prowl was producing easily, and Prowl was easily able to accommodate them. His valve was so loose from arousal that he thought he might be able to take Sunstreaker’s entire hand.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sunstreaker asked with a shy smile.

“I’d enjoy it more if you’d get around to the main event,” Prowl panted out.

“So impatient…” Sunstreaker shook his head. “Just let go and feel. We’ll get there soon enough.”

Prowl chuffed but complied, letting his lover set the pace and trying to relax enough to simply feel the sensations Sunstreaker was creating in him.

Two fingers soon became three, and Prowl was panting hard, vents blown wide open and blasting hot air. The feelings were almost too much and he was on the verge of overload again.

“Sun… Sunny, I…”

“Go ahead and overload. It’s fine,” Sunstreaker purred into a white audial.

A million stars went off behind his optics and his valve clamped down on the fingers within. Sunstreaker wiggled them and stretched them apart gently, providing just that much more stimulation and drawing out the overload.

Prowl groaned as he recovered from that one. He’d decided that, yes, he and Sunstreaker worked very well together and that he’d completely underestimated this twin.

Sunstreaker looked down at him expectantly. “Do you want some more of that, or do you want my spike?”

Prowl panted a bit. “At this point, I don’t believe I care. It feels so good…”

Sunstreaker preened. “Glad you see it my way.” He released his panel and there was a hiss as his spike pressurised rapidly. “I think I’ll have you anyway. See how many overloads I can pull out of you before I come.”

Prowl looked down the length of Sunstreaker’s spike, noting the girth. Bigger than Sideswipe’s, but not by much. There was an odd, slight swell at the base of the gold and black spike, and he asked, “Do you have a knot?”

Sunstreaker flushed and looked away, suddenly much less confident than he’d been just a moment ago. “Yes…?” he answered hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “It’s not a mod. It’s just how I was created.”

Prowl reached up and turned Sunstreaker’s face back toward his. “Mod or not, I don’t think any less of you. To be quite honest, I’ve been curious how it feels since I found out about them, and that’s been a long time.”

Lavender optics met ice blue. “Really?”

“Really. Do you think I’d lie to you?”

“No.” The response was quick and decisive.

“Then don’t be shy. Show me how good you are.” Prowl smiled seductively.

Sunstreaker surged forward into a passionate kiss. Prowl wrapped his arms around the warrior’s neck and surrendered himself to the feelings, hips twitching upwards. Sunstreaker laughed and said, “Not yet, love. We’ll get there, but not yet. I still have so much planned for you.”

He abandoned Prowl’s mouth in favour of his neck. Quick nibbles were soothed with a soft tongue, and he kissed and sucked on the junction of Prowl’s neck and shoulder. He tracked his way down Prowl’s frame to his valve and back up to give him a swift, deep kiss. He stole one of the pillows from behind Prowl and backed off.

“And just what do you plan to do with my pillow?” Prowl asked archly.

Sunstreaker smirked. “This.” And he lifted his lover enough to place the pillow under his aft.

“Ratchet is not going to be happy. That pillow is going to be ruined.”

“He’ll get over it.” He made a few adjustments, pushing and pulling the pillow around until he was happy with the angle of Prowl’s hips. He climbed onto the bed between eagerly spread legs, but neglected his straining spike and positioned himself so his valve touched Prowl’s. Prowl looked at him oddly, but the first roll of Sunstreaker’s hips had his optics closing and his lips parted on a soft sigh.

Sunstreaker kept the rolls of his hips even and smooth, although he’d speed up or slow down just to change things up a bit. The touch of their valves was bliss; the hot slickness, rubbing their nubs together, their netherlips kissing oh so deliciously. Both of their valves were leaking copiously, so much that, yes, the pillow would likely have to be thrown out or incinerated. The overload this way was much longer in coming, but it was so much more fulfilling, at least in Sunstreaker’s view.

He heard the door open, and then close again just as quickly as it had opened. He presumed it was Ratchet checking in on his patient and went right on chasing both of their overloads.

Prowl was building to his rather more swiftly than Sunstreaker, and the golden mech encouraged it with swirls and deeper rolls of his hips. He could tell when the Praxian was about to overload now; he’d go tense all over for a second or two, then the overload would hit him in waves. And he loved that Prowl was such a vocal lover. Who knew the mech could be that loud?

With another bump to his nub, Prowl overloaded. He felt the gush of fluids on his own array and almost came right there. A soft intake of vents sounded somewhere behind Sunstreaker, but he paid it no mind since his own overload was just. Right. There.

He doubled over Prowl, hands to either side of him, and shook quietly through his overload. He checked to make sure Prowl was fine, then looked around to find his twin watching them avidly, awe in his optics.

“What are you doing here?” Sunstreaker hissed.

“I got relieved. Wasn’t doing much good on the monitors with you doing Prowl. Red noticed I was distracted worse than usual and told me to take a hike,” Sideswipe whispered. “I didn’t realise you two would be so beautiful together.”

“You didn’t realise a lot of things.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Sideswipe… I didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” Prowl murmured.

“Wasn’t planning on it, but I got kicked out of the monitor room by Red himself since you decided to seduce my brother,” the red mech said with a smile.

“Hmm. I would say I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lie. He’s every bit as good as you.”

“He’s better,” Sideswipe asserted. “He hasn’t spiked you yet.”

Sunstreaker blushed. 

“None of that, love,” Prowl said, raising his hand to cup Sunstreaker’s cheek. “I’d love to feel you.”

“I’ll just… sit over here,” Sideswipe said.

“You’re sure you’re okay for another round?” Sunstreaker asked of Prowl.

The black and white smiled tiredly and said, “I’m pretty sure it’s not going to kill me.”

Sunstreaker gave him a dubious look, but gripped his length and guided himself to Prowl’s wet opening. He traced around the swollen valve with the tip of his spike, teasing the Praxian a bit more and listening to the delicious whimpers he made. When he finally eased himself inside, Prowl cried out in bliss, as usual not caring for the noise he made.

He thrust shallowly, playing with Prowl’s nub the entire time. Prowl’s hips twitched upward, trying to get more of the spike teasing him inside. Sunstreaker let him get another couple of inches, then pulled almost completely out. He pushed in a little deeper when he returned, easing himself into the valve he’d only dreamed of until now.

It was exquisite. Prowl’s valve was nice and loose, but would tighten up like a vice when a node was hit just right. Sunstreaker’s spike slid easily through the passage, his slowly inflating knot bumping up against Prowl’s opening. Prowl squirmed and pressed himself downward, trying to get that knot inside, but Sunstreaker kept teasing him with it, pushing it inside, then pulling out with a wet popping noise.

He could feel Sideswipe’s desire as his twin sat in the chair by the door, panel popped, stroking himself. He knew, though, that he had no desire to join in or interfere in the scene playing out in front of him. He was happy just to watch. And Sunstreaker was happy to let him.

Prowl’s cries were gaining in volume, and Sunstreaker’s knot was getting big enough that it could be painful to continue his game much longer. He pressed in and continued in tiny, shallow thrusts, adding a twist to his hips first one way, then the other, then a full circle, making sure to hit as many of Prowl’s nodes as he could.

The Praxian clawed at Sunstreaker’s back, leaving scratches in the clear coat. His optics were bright, perhaps brighter than they should have been. His vents came in gasps as he came closer to his overload, and Sunstreaker was right there with him.

Overload crested. Prowl screamed, a mix of bliss and pain, and passed out.

*

“Ratchet!” Sideswipe yelled. “Prowl’s crashed!”

The medic came barrelling out of his office at breakneck speeds, passing a suspicious-looking Smokescreen, and heading directly to Prowl’s room. Sideswipe quickly moved out of his way.

“I’m gonna need you two to help me. I’ve commed First Aid, but it’ll take too long for him to get here and I need to get started on him _now_. Sunstreaker, that cart in the corner, bring it to me. Sideswipe, I’m going to need those monitors over there. You’ve spent enough time in here to know how they hook up. Do it.”

Both twins sprang into action. Sideswipe fumbled with the first monitor, but after a sharp word from Ratchet, he steadied and smoothly hooked up the rest without a hitch.

“I need you two to tell me exactly what happened when he crashed.”

“He overloaded hard. Second or third time. We were interfacing.”

“I know. There’s a camera up in the corner opposite the door. Don’t worry, I don’t make a habit of spying on my patients. You’re not the first ones to frag in the private rooms.”

Readouts from the monitors began scrolling by on Ratchet’s datapad. “The bond snapped, and the newspark is taking up residence in the frame. It’s still too early, but barring any complications, he’ll be all right, though he’s going to be sore for a while. Assuming my information is correct, though, interfacing shouldn’t have brought this on. It’s actually good for a Praxian carrier to interface.”

An alarm sounded. “Rust it all, can’t the mech get a break!?” Ratchet plugged into Prowl’s medical port and opened his chestplates. He then picked up a pair of rods and turned the dial on a machine on the cart Sunstreaker had brought over. Electricity arced between the rods and he set them close to Prowl’s spark. “Stay back!” he shouted to the twins. He touched the tips of the rods to either side of Prowl’s spark chamber.

Prowl’s frame went rigid and bowed off the berth. Once, twice, three times more Ratchet repeated the process until the alarm shut off. “Prowl? Prowl, I need you to wake up.” Ratchet patted the sides of the mech’s face. “Come on Prowl. We need you to pull out of this.”

“Ratchet? What happened?”

“His spark guttered. I managed to bring it back, but if he doesn’t wake up soon, even for a little while, he could suffer permanent damage both to his spark and his brain.”

“Prowl! Come on, baby. We love you and don’t want to lose any part of you.”

“Smokescreen, I must ask you to leave,” First Aid exclaimed just outside of the door.

"Get the hell out of here, Smokescreen. You know you're not welcome," Ratchet ordered. Prowl stirred a bit. Sunstreaker looked up to see the gambler in the doorway and saw red. He rose with a threatening glower and started toward the blue mech when Prowl’s voice stopped him for a moment.

“Beat the shit out of him.”

The glower became a grin and he replied, “Gladly.”

Smokescreen took off, Sunstreaker in hot pursuit.


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you think you were doing? Infighting is not allowed, Sunstreaker, you _know_ this.” Optimus stood outside the brig cell, looking in at the golden mech.

“I was following orders. I quote, ‘Beat the shit out of him’.”

“Who in their right mind would give an order like that?”

His head came up, held high, and he looked the Prime directly in the optic. “Prowl.”

Optimus covered his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are aware that Prowl is in no condition to be giving orders, and you should know better than to follow _any_ orders that would result in the bodily harm of another Autobot. No matter your personal feelings for them.”

Sunstreaker didn't look at all ashamed of himself. In fact, his body language bordered on insolent, what with his crossed arms and leaning position on the cell wall. Optimus clearly had his work cut out for him. This mech wouldn’t go down without a fight. Even a verbal one.

“You will stay here until I have decided that you have learned your lesson. Although I fear it may be a long time before that day.”

“Like slag I’m going to be a meek little Autobot and go willingly along with whatever you think you have planned for me. If Prowl orders it, I’m going to follow orders. And that includes beating the slag out of anyone he asks me to.”

“You would do well to remember your oath to the Autobot cause.” Optimus was using his irritated leader voice now. “And Prowl is, as I said, in no position to be giving orders. _I_ am the leader of the Autobots, and you _will_ follow these orders: You will not cause harm to any Autobot, or you will be kicked out of the army without your brother, unless he, too, causes enough of a ruckus to warrant being kicked out. I know you have an attachment to Prowl, but the safety of my soldiers comes before anything. Either way, you’ll be in here for at least a couple of days for infighting.”

“Fine. But if Smokescreen rears his head around Prowl again, I’m not responsible for my actions.”

Cobalt optics flashed fire and his voice thundered. “You are _always_ responsible for your actions, Sunstreaker. That is what you don’t seem to understand, and why you’re in the brig so often. You are sullen and insolent, and I can no longer excuse it. Ratchet was worried that Smokescreen wouldn’t pull through after what you did to him. He has a long road to recovery thanks to you. You are lucky I’m not like Megatron and don’t beat my subordinates into submission, because I’ll be honest, it crossed my mind for a microsecond.”

“Then do it. I could use a good workout, and you’re the strongest of us.”

Optimus sighed and lowered his voice to his disappointed leader tone. “Sunstreaker, I really wish you weren’t so combative. I don’t want to fight you; that would make me no better than Megatron. You _have_ to learn that your actions have consequences and that the more severe your actions, the more severe the consequences. You need to put aside personal feelings and vendettas; they do not serve you well. I believe that you could be a positive asset to the army if only you would do this.”

“Fuck off.”

“Very well. I will give you time to calm down and think about the things I’ve said. Please consider them carefully. I do _not_ want to banish you.” He turned and left the cell block.

“Yeah, right.” Sunstreaker snorted.

*

“How are you feeling, Prowl?” Ratchet asked.

“To be quite honest, I feel like slag. I cannot get comfortable no matter how I try, and the sparkling has taken up beating on my insides as a hobby.”

“Active, is he?”

“Very. I suppose this is a good sign, though, as my last sparkling didn’t get this far along.”

“That’s the first time you’ve mentioned a previous sparkling. I knew you’d carried before, but you’ve never said anything about it.”

“It is a painful memory, one I do not like speaking of. I had a sparkmate at the time, but after the miscarriage, he left me. It was a very bad time in my life.”

“Not a bondmate?” Sideswipe piped up.

“No, we never went that far. And in retrospect, it was a very good thing. Dissolving that bond would have been a long and painful process, one that I was in no shape for. But I really prefer not to speak more of it. Not at this time.”

“Okay. Another time, then?”

“Another time.”

“Have any ideas for names for this one?”

“Perhaps Sunburst, or Flux, or Beacon, or Aurora. I haven’t settled on one, and new ones pop up all the time. Like Trace.”

“I kind of like Beacon. Maybe Aurora. What do you think, Ratchet?”

“I think they’re all fine names,” Ratchet said, distracted by readouts on his datapad.

“C’mon, you’re not even paying attention.”

“If I wasn’t paying attention, I’d have no clue what you two were talking about. I’m checking readouts, and that does require a bit of my attention, Sideswipe.”

“Ratchet, can I stand up? Laying down and reclining are both killing me. The berth has amazing padding, but I can’t move too much without making my wings ache. And I can’t sit up properly any more.”

The medic frowned at his datapad. “I’d really rather you didn’t, but if I know you, and I do, you’ll just do it anyway as soon as I leave the room. So let’s go ahead and do this while I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Ratchet had Sideswipe get on the other side of the berth to help him help Prowl up. “Toward me,” Ratchet said as Prowl looped his arms around each of their shoulders. He swung his legs slowly toward Ratchet as requested and eventually he was sitting on the edge of the berth. Sideswipe moved around the foot of the berth to come around to help the black and white stand.

“You feel okay, right?”

“As okay as I get nowadays. And the movement has settled the sparkling somewhat.” Prowl said, relief in his voice.

“Okay, we’re going to pull you upright now. If anything feels wrong, I need you to tell me about it immediately. Ready?”

Prowl blew out a long, heavy vent. “Yes.” 

The two larger mechs pulled gently but firmly until Prowl’s feet were on the ground and steady. Prowl wobbled a bit and one of the leads to a monitor pulled off, causing the thing to sound an alarm. Ratchet went to silence it, leaving Prowl in Sideswipe’s arms.

“Steady?”

Prowl nodded, looking up at the frontliner. He threw his arms around his neck and pulled him down so he could kiss him soundly. His belly pressed into Sideswipe’s, and the kicking of the sparkling transferred into the red mech’s frame.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding about him being active. Seems strong.”

‘If he is, it’s because of you and your brother.” Prowl’s voice was muffled in Sideswipe’s neck. “I hope he is. I can’t lose another sparkling. It would kill me.”

“By the way, Prowl,” Ratchet broke in, “if you want this sparkling so bad, you should have told me your history when we found out you were sparked. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. Smokescreen had to tell me that you’d even conceived before and what I could expect from the situation.”

“He had no right.”

“No, I’ll agree with you on that one, but if he hadn’t told me, you both might’ve died that first time you collapsed. You can’t withhold information like that, you hear me? I’d clobber you over the head for it if you were in better shape. No more, okay?”

Prowl curled into Sideswipe’s chest, thoroughly chastised. “Very well.”

“Here, let me undo the monitor leads, and I’ll let you walk around the room for a bit.”

“Can I go out into Medbay? Despite the paintings Sunstreaker has brought me, looking at these walls all the time has me going stir-crazy.”

Ratchet huffed but consented, as long as Sideswipe stayed right by his side and with a promise to sit down if he needed to.

“You do realise that Smokescreen’s out there, right?” Ratchet asked.

“At this point, I don’t believe I care,” Prowl returned. “I need to get out of this damned room.”

“Don’t worry, Prowl. If you don’t like what he says, I’ll pull a Sunny and beat the tar out of him.”

Ratchet sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t. It just makes more work for me. And you know I hate having to re-do a good reconstruction.”


	11. Chapter 11

Prowl stepped out of his room for the first time in months. The few mechs who were in medbay turned to watch and greet him. Bluestreak bounded over and gave Prowl a careful hug.

“I’m so happy you’re up!” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Claustrophobic. I’ve been cooped up too long.”

“Yeah. I’d’ve gone crazy a long time ago. Ratchet says you’re doing better than you were.”

“He was until that spell when he asked Sunny to beat the slag out of Smokey,” Ratchet griped.

“I plead temporary insanity.”

“I’ll agree with you there.”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s about right,” Smokescreen said loudly from his medberth. “What the frag were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. It was an instinctual response. I don’t want you near me or my sparkling, but especially not the sparkling.”

“I take it you’re still mad about that? It was an accident.”

“Sparklings don’t just die ‘on accident’. You were charged with her well-being, and you neglected to watch her well enough. Even the courts decided it was a case of neglect and you were charged with infanticide. How you got out of a prison sentence is beyond me, but you didn’t manage to escape being exiled. You will have nothing to do with my sparkling.”

Smokescreen drooped and sighed. “That’s all true. I failed in my duty to my mate, and my sparkling died because I couldn’t stop my gambling habit. I still can’t stop; it’s an addiction that I’ve tried many times to give up. I’ve been trying to get to you because I wanted to apologise. I’ve been living with this ever since it happened, and there’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about it. Sparklings are gifts, and I’m happy that you’re getting the chance to have one, and I’m sorry I fucked up my chance. I know your sparkling will bring you a lot of joy.”

“You fucking left her alone while you went to collect on a bet! You're only sorry you got caught. I repeat, you will have nothing to do with this sparkling.”

“I understand that. And I won’t bother you any more. Might ask after the bitlet on occasion, but I’ll stay away. I am glad to see you up and walking around, you know. It gives me hope that you won’t have any more troubles. It’s a good sign.”

Prowl gave the mech a cold look and didn’t answer, just moved on in his walk, Sideswipe right beside him.

*

Prowl took to wandering the medbay often. He avoided Smokescreen’s berth, and the blue mech watched him but said nothing, though it was evident he wanted to. Sometimes he sat in Ratchet’s office with the medic and chatted. But mostly he was on the move. He told Sideswipe that it settled the bit down, the steady rocking motion of Prowl’s walk lulling the sparkling to sleep. It was the only reprieve he had now. As soon as he settled back into his berth, the sparkling began pounding on his interior again. He began to play a ‘what body part is sticking me in my body part’ game. Of course, there was no way to be certain, but it relieved the boredom somewhat.

He was counting down the days until his due date. It was still two months off, but he could hardly wait to be rid of the incessant internal pounding and to be able to hold his sparkling in his arms.

It took two weeks before Sunstreaker was allowed to see him again, and the mech clung to him the first time they were reunited. Variations on ‘I missed you’ were uttered almost constantly, and Prowl was quick to reassure the golden mech that he had been missed as well.

Interfacing happened. Sunstreaker’s desperation eventually calmed into his usual caring demeanour and their lovemaking turned sensual and passionate instead of frenzied. Sideswipe watched, slowly stroking himself. He didn’t overload, but he had calmed as well by the time they were done.

Days passed and Sunstreaker took to following Prowl around the medbay. He pointedly ignored Smokescreen, who watched him warily until the day he was allowed to leave. Even then, it was said that he watched his back much more closely and was far jumpier than he used to be.

A month from his due date, Ratchet started doing daily exams on both Prowl and the sparkling. He wanted to make sure everything was going well. And it was. Mostly.

Prowl was losing energy faster now. He had to refuel much more often and take more breaks while wandering. Whomever was following him around had taken to carrying a cube or two of fortified energon with them.

The sparkling was still energetic, but there was little room to move around in, so instead of the steady kicks and punches he was throwing before, it was more like he was stretching. It was interesting to watch Prowl’s belly abruptly form a bump that moved around before disappearing. Sideswipe in particular liked to put his hand on it and follow it around.

Optimus visited a few times, excited by the prospect of having a sparkling around. He would bring little gifts with him; a soft blanket, a life-size giant panda plush, things to chew on and so forth.

True to his word, Smokescreen was not seen in medbay except when he had to be there for therapy. And then, he left Prowl and his entourage alone, though he gave Prowl a longing look every time he saw him.

A week before his due date, Prowl went into labour.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hey, are you okay, Prowl? You keep holding yourself like you’re in pain.” Sideswipe asked.

“Just some back pain. It happens sometimes. Maybe I should sit down for a bit,” he responded.

“How’s the bitlet?”

“Quiet. He seems to like it when I’m moving around.”

“Here, sit down. Don’t want you straining yourself. Do you need any energon?

“Yes, please.” He drank down half the cube in one go.

“Damn, babe. Slow down or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Did I hear someone say sick?” Ratchet poked his head out of his office.

“Prowl’s gonna make himself sick if he doesn’t slow down on the energon. He just sucked half a cube down in one pull. And just did it again.”

“Prowl, small drinks, okay? I don’t want you purging all over my medbay. How’s your sparkling?”

“He’s… quiet. He’s never quiet when I’m not moving.” His back was still hurting him, too. Then, since he was paying attention, he felt the cramps. Slow and fairly weak at this point, but he was sure they were labour pains. “Ratchet,” he said, very calmly, “I think I’m in labour.”

Ratchet emerged fully from his office. “Let’s get you back to your room, then, and we’ll see what’s going on. Sideswipe? You want to carry your lover?”

The red mech carefully picked up Prowl, who put his arms around his lover’s neck. They followed Ratchet into Prowl’s room, and Sideswipe laid Prowl gently on his berth. Ratchet hooked up some of the monitors again and began the scans he wanted. They waited patiently for the scans to complete, Prowl suffering through another, stronger cramp in the meantime.

“You’re right. It’s a little on the early side, but you are in labour. Now it’s just a waiting game. I’m setting an alarm to go off every hour so I can come in and check on you. I’m going to need to check how dilated you are now.”

Prowl sighed. More laying about. “Hopefully it progresses quickly so I can hold my sparkling soon.”

“Hey,” Sideswipe said with a little pout. “It’s my sparkling, too.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that it wasn’t. Perhaps I should have said ‘our sparkling’?”

“That sounds much better. Ah, shit. I need to comm Sunny. He’ll want to be here, too. If that’s all right with you?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“I’d tell him there’s no hurry. Prowl’s not experiencing any of the signs of imminent delivery, so he doesn’t need to rush down here. And I definitely don’t need the two of you in my way.”

“We’ll stay out of the way, Ratch, don’t worry.”

“And if something goes wrong and I have to shoo you both out?”

Sideswipe looked torn. Prowl himself was torn. He knew how the mech had reacted when he’d collapsed on him and Ratchet had locked him out of the room. He didn’t want a repeat of that, but he didn’t want to be alone if something went wrong, either. “Please promise me that you’ll do whatever Ratchet tells you in that case,” he pleaded.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do that, Prowl. Something happens and I just react. I’ll try, but that’s the best I can give you. I can’t promise. And Sunny won’t, either, I can guarantee that.”

“Wonderful. Just what I need: two overprotective frontliners in a medical situation. If anything happens and you two won’t leave, don’t expect me to go easy on you. I _will_ put you out on your twin asses. Got it?” Ratchet gave Sideswipe the evil eye.

The frontliner put his hands up in surrender. “I got it, I got it. And I’ll relay the threat to Sunny so he gets it, too. I still can’t guarantee anything, though.”

Alarm klaxons rang out, startling everyone in the room. _::Decepticons attacking. Everyone to their battle stations.::_ Red Alert’s calm voice echoed through the whole medbay.

“Slaggitall!” Sideswipe shouted. “I can’t leave you.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. Go, protect the sparkling by protecting the _Ark_.”

“All right. ‘Cons won’t know what hit ‘em.” Sideswipe leaned down and gave Prowl a short but passionate kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

*

Sideswipe found his brother at the front of the fighting, exactly where he expected to find him: taking on Menasor.

_::About time you got here,::_ Sunstreaker radioed. _::I was beginning to think I’d have to take this ugly mug out all by myself.::_

_::Sorry, had to go back for my lunch,::_ Sideswipe cheerily replied, leaping into action. _::Prowl’s in labour, so let’s mop this up as fast as we can.::_

_::He’s_ what _?::_

_::In. Labour. Is your comm malfunctioning?::_

_::Open the bond. Let’s get this done,::_ Sunstreaker said, even more deadly serious than usual.

They moved seamlessly with each other once fully enmeshed in their bond. The Protectobots minus First Aid - who was in medbay with Ratchet - came to assist in taking Menasor down, and they all moved on to other targets.

Prime was, of course, slugging it out with Megatron, and the ‘Con jets were duelling it out with the Aerialbots. Dirge came spiralling out of the sky to crash not too far from where the twins were dodging incoming fire and taking potshots at a hovering Vortex.

//You want to hike me up there, or do you want him?// Sideswipe silently asked.

//I’ll take the bastard.//

//Alright.// Sideswipe subspaced his blaster and set himself to toss Sunstreaker as his brother took a few running steps then stepped up into Sideswipe’s hands. He quickly calculated how hard he needed to throw Sunny and at what angle so he would hit the Decepticon straight on, then tossed the golden twin up all in one smooth movement.

Vortex moved at the last second and Sunstreaker landed on his nose, scrabbling to hang on before he could either fall or be tossed off. The helo began a rising and falling pattern, rising quickly and dropping even faster, making Sunstreaker’s tanks heave. He held on with one hand and smashed his other through the front windscreen several times in quick succession, punctuating each word of his shouted, “Cut. It. OUT!” He grabbed a handful of interior console and ripped it out and Vortex began his crash landing, falling straight down from the sky.

Sideswipe dodged to the side and Sunstreaker leapt clear just before he hit. They were immediately strafed by Skywarp and Thundercracker. Sunstreaker took a hit to the side and Sideswipe got grazed on his upper left leg, but as soon as the jets were past and angling for another attack run they were back up and ready to do some Jet Judo.

Sunstreaker threw Sideswipe at Thundercracker, and the red Lamborghini landed perfectly, ready to deal some damage. The jet started to barrel roll as soon as he felt the weight of the frontliner, but Sideswipe had already punched through just behind his cockpit and was yanking out parts like a child opening presents. The barrel roll turned into a banking turn and Thundercracker went down smoking.

Sideswipe jumped at Skywarp, but the purple jet teleported away before he could land and Sideswipe was left falling, falling, out of the sky. He desperately wished for his jetpack and determined that if he made it out of this situation, he’d get Wheeljack or Perceptor to make him a new one.

Skywarp _vopped_ back into existence and lined up on the red mech, chasing him down with a hail of bullets.

//Sides!// Sunstreaker jerked with each hit as if it were he instead of his brother on the receiving end of Skywarp’s guns. _::Medic! Sides is hit bad and falling. We need help!::_ he screamed over the comm as he set to blasting away at Skywarp.

One shot hit something that Skywarp didn’t like and he _vopped_ away again. He vaguely heard Megatron sounding the retreat as he ran to where his brother was going to land. Sunstreaker felt the impact of heavy feet running with him, then they were gone and a large shadow crossed over him.

*

Optimus Prime touched down in a huge impact crater. He cradled Sideswipe’s battered frame in his arms. The young mech was bleeding profusely from the many wounds Skywarp had inflicted. Sunstreaker skidded to a stop next to him, but with the condition the red frontliner was in, he had no time to stop for the other twin.

He barked orders over comm as he ran back to the _Ark_ and then through it to medbay. Ratchet had a berth already set up for him and he gently laid his burden on it. Ratchet and First Aid immediately got to work patching up the bleeding lines and pulling bullets out of Sideswipe’s body.

A low cry grabbed his attention. Prowl stood hunched and braced in the doorway to his room, optics locked on the ragged frame of his sparkling’s sire.

“Prime, get him back in his bed. He’s in labour and shouldn’t be out here,” Ratchet snapped without looking up or losing his concentration on Sideswipe. “Sunstreaker, go with him. There’s nothing you can do right now except leave us to our job.” Sensing that the frontliner was about to protest, he added, “I’ll call for you if I need you or when we’re done, all right?”

Sunstreaker subsided and moved toward Prowl. Optimus took one last pained look at Sideswipe and turned to follow. Prowl stubbornly held on to the doorframe until they each carefully pried a hand off the metal. He switched his hold to Sunstreaker then, cleansing fluid threatening to spill from his optics. The golden mech stroked a doorwing in a comforting gesture, then picked Prowl up and moved into his room.

Instead of setting Prowl on his berth, Sunstreaker sat them both down in the chair and just held him, stroking his doorwing. Prowl laid his head on Sunstreaker’s shoulder and fought the tears.

Optimus rumbled out an “I’m sorry, Prowl, Sunstreaker.” He touched both mechs on the shoulder, wanting to comfort them but knowing he really couldn’t. “I will leave the two of you alone. Prowl, please do as Ratchet says. He’s only got your and your sparkling’s best interests in mind.”

“Optimus.” Prowl’s voice, quavery and full of conflicting emotions. “Thank you.”

Prime smiled at them both as he left the room, a small one, but genuinely caring. “Let us hope that Sideswipe’s recovery goes quickly. I’m certain he’ll want to hold your sparkling as soon as he is able.”

He saw Prowl nod and lay his head back on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, then he was back in the medbay proper. He looked over at Ratchet and First Aid still working diligently on Sideswipe even as other wounded started to come in. Wheeljack and Perceptor began treating the more major of the injuries, not needing prompted by the CMO, just knowing that his attention was focussed elsewhere right then and needed to stay there.

Prime himself only had minor injuries, so he would wait until the more serious wounds had all been repaired. He wandered among his troops, speaking with them and thanking them for their courage and loyalty. He passed nearby to Ratchet and heard him muttering to himself as he worked. That wasn’t a great sign. In fact, it was a rather bad sign, but he knew better than to interrupt the medic while he was working on wounds like that.

He sat on the bench with several of his Autobots, each waiting their turn for repair, and watched Ratchet’s body language deteriorate the longer he worked. It was not looking good. He knew Ratchet’s signs of stress, and they were all over the medic’s frame. And when he finally yelled across the ‘bay for Sunstreaker to get out there and the golden mech came out at a dead run, Optimus got back up and returned to Prowl’s room to keep the mech there and as calm as he could.


	13. Chapter 13

Ratchet noted the casualties making their way into medbay and hoped he wouldn’t be required to give up his assistant. Sideswipe’s wounds were severe enough that he wasn’t sure he could patch all of them by himself before the mech bled out. Even with the two of them working, he was losing too much energon. It dripped off the berth to puddle on the floor, making moving around treacherous, but he couldn’t take the time right now to clean it up.

Clamp, clean, patch, repeat. First Aid worked steadily across from him, pulling bullets and patching lines as quickly as he was able. Which wasn’t as fast as Ratchet could, but he wasn’t that far behind. Slowly they made progress, but Sideswipe had already lost a lot of energon and they weren’t close to done with him yet.

It was difficult to get to some of the lines even with his armour off. Several bullets had grazed the spark chamber and bounced off spinal struts to lodge themselves in various other body parts, doing massive damage to his nervous system and ripping through a number of lines. Ratchet set to work repairing the energon and coolant lines. The nervous system would wait until the mech wasn’t bleeding out.

The longer they worked the more damage they found. Ratchet was dismayed by the state of things. They would be fabricating parts for days. Sideswipe’s engine was shot, his nervous system mangled, his spark chamber grazed any number of times... He was honestly surprised that the mech wasn’t dead.

One bullet had even punched through the spark chamber and lodged in the crystal surrounding his spark, mere millimetres from the spark itself. Ratchet left it alone for the moment; it would take a while to safely remove and there were more pressing wounds to attend to.

He heard the _tink_ of glass cracking a moment before Sideswipe began convulsing and he shouted for Sunstreaker even as he was reaching for the crash cart. He swore to himself as the cart charged, then shocked Sideswipe’s failing spark. It flared brightly for a second then guttered. The cart whined as it charged again. There was a crash from somewhere behind him, then shouting and a scramble from a few different mechs. First Aid disappeared in that direction, shouting orders.

Ratchet shocked him again. Another bright flare and gutter, then the spark caught. It wasn’t a strong burn, but it was there and that was all that mattered.

He heard the whine of the other crash cart charging and spared a glance over. First Aid had Sunstreaker up on a berth with his chest armour off, getting ready to shock his spark. Fortunately, it only took one to get Sunstreaker back, but he lay there silent and still. Aid set one of the mechs who’d helped him to watching over Sunstreaker and returned to continue working on Sideswipe.

Ratchet kept one optic on Sideswipe’s spark as they finished up patching his lines. Clamp, clean, patch, repeat. Once done, he put the frontliner into medical stasis to keep him from waking up. He and First Aid hooked monitors up to both twins, then washed up and began making the rounds of mechs still waiting to be repaired.

Optimus called his name and he looked around for the Autobot leader. He was standing in the door to Prowl’s room. _Oh, frag. Prowl._ He left the mech he was working on with an ‘I’ll be back’ and headed over to check on the Praxian.

“He’s in pain, even though he tries not to show it,” Optimus said at the door. “How are the twins?”

“They’re stable for the moment, that’s all I can say right now. Sides is messed up pretty bad. He’ll be down for a while. Sunny should wake up here in a few hours, but I’m keeping him here overnight for observation. Not like he’d leave his brother’s side with him in this condition, though.”

Optimus nodded and moved aside for Ratchet to enter the room. Prowl was lying back on his berth and had his blanket drawn up around himself to just under his chin. His hands ran over his belly under the blanket then clamped tight to it as he grunted through a contraction.

“How often are they coming, Prowl?” Ratchet asked, looking at the monitor readouts.

“Five minutes.”

“Okay. It shouldn’t be too much longer. Let me do a quick check to see how you’re coming along.”

Prowl shifted uncomfortably.

“Optimus?” Ratchet said.

“Yes, sorry.” He stepped out of the room.

Ratchet did his check. Prowl wasn’t as far along as he should be, but that could change rapidly. He rearranged the blanket and patted Prowl on the knee. “You’re doing fine. Let me know when they start getting closer together. I’ve got other patients to attend to, but I’ll be back in a little while to check on you again.”

“Yes, Ratchet.”

Optimus returned to Prowl’s room once Ratchet left. The medic was glad that he was with the Praxian. If anyone could keep Prowl calm, it was him.

He returned to Cliffjumper, who asked him how Prowl was doing. He responded noncommittally, afraid to say anything one way or the other lest it get around the base. And it would, as soon as he was done with Cliffjumper. The minibot had a way of running his mouth.

He finished up and went to check on the twins. Their sparks were still weak, but the rhythm was steady. He patched up the wound on Sunstreaker’s side, then went to take care of another casualty of the battle.

He continued in that vein until there were no more injuries to treat beyond Sideswipe. He took care of Optimus in Prowl’s room, then returned to the frontliner. First Aid brought him a cube of energon and he chugged it down.

Hours passed as he worked on the red mech, pausing every so often to go check on Prowl. Wheeljack came over and they talked for a while. Ratchet let the inventor know what parts he needed fabricated to repair Sideswipe and he said he would get right on it.

“I don’t need them right away. Go rest.”

“You should take your own advice, Ratch.”

“I’ve still got Prowl to watch over. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine once he has that sparkling. Take Aid with you, though. He needs the sleep.”

Wheeljack shook his head but refrained from arguing with the medic. He knew that even if Ratchet would take the time away from the medbay, he wouldn’t be able to rest. That would never keep him from showing his disapproval, though.

Ratchet just waved him off with a laugh and returned to his work. Another hour passed before he knew it and he went over to check on Sunstreaker. The yellow twin should’ve been awake by then, but he lay there on the berth, still as death. He left the monitors to watch over the twins.

Optimus was sleeping in the chair when Ratchet came back into Prowl’s room. Prowl informed him that the contractions were now four minutes apart and had been since not long after his last visit. He still wasn’t dilating the way he should, but he didn’t let on about it. No sense in worrying the mech more than he already was. At least not yet.

Ratchet worked long into the night on Sideswipe. He was beginning to worry about Sunstreaker. The mech still hadn’t regained consciousness. He eventually went and kicked Optimus out of medbay and rested in the chair himself. Several times he caught himself starting to drift off, but he never actually fell asleep. Every time he offered Prowl something for the pain, it was refused on the grounds that it might hurt the sparkling, even after Ratchet told him it wouldn’t.

First Aid greeted him cheerfully when he reported for his shift in the morning.

“Go lay down,” he ordered. “I’ll keep an optic on Prowl and the twins and call you if anything changes.”

He griped about insubordinate mechlings as he went. Only to the room next to Prowl’s, but he went.

He got about three hours of sleep before he jerked upright, worried about the twins. First Aid was just leaving Prowl’s room as Ratchet came out. He motioned for Ratchet to come with him to check on the twins.

“I’m worried about Prowl,” he said as soon as they were out of audial range. “He’s not dilating.”

“I know. I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily, though, so I haven’t said anything to him.”

“I haven’t either, but his contractions are closer together. The sparkling is fine for the moment, but there’s a faint echo in its spark rhythm now that I’m afraid might turn into something worse.”

“Damn. I was hoping the sparkling would be fine.” There was no change in the twins’ readouts. He looked over the log for the last few hours; it was more of the same. “Sunstreaker should have been up by now. Should have been up hours ago.”

“I’m worried about that, too. I’m just worried all around.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”


	14. Chapter 14

Prowl was exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep, but there was no way he could with the pain from the contractions. Ratchet or First Aid was always in with him now and he could tell they were getting worried. Probably had been for a while, knowing Ratchet. They kept checking the readouts for the sparkling’s monitor and he caught Ratchet’s barely-there frown.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hopefully nothing. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I am very ready for this to be over.”

“I’ll bet you are. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“It’s not an exact science, Prowl. Sparklings come in their own time. Yours is just taking its sweet time. Are you sure you don’t want anything for the pain?”

“My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me that question.”

“Had to make sure.” The sparkling’s monitor sounded an alarm. Ratchet silenced it and looked back at the readout.

First Aid came running in. “What is it?” both he and Prowl said at the same time.

“Prep for surgery. Prowl, the sparkling is in distress and you’re not dilated. We need to cut it out. It’ll be fine as long as we get to it in time. I’m going to go ahead and put you in stasis so you don’t feel it.” He didn’t wait for an answer.

The last thing he knew was the clench of his spark at the thought of losing his sparkling.

*

Almost as soon as Ratchet had put Prowl into stasis, _his_ spark monitor went off.

“Frag! Aid! Grab the cart! Prowl’s crashing!”

The younger medic scrambled madly for the crash cart that had been left out by Sunstreaker. As soon as he was back with it, he charged it and waited for Ratchet to back away so he could shock Prowl’s spark.

It took three shocks to get Prowl’s spark back, and then it was weak and fluttery. Ratchet didn’t know if he’d survive the surgery, but if they didn’t get the sparkling out, _now_ , they were certain to lose the both of them. It was a chance they’d have to take.

They worked together seamlessly, as if they’d done this surgery together a thousand times. First Aid kept an optic on Prowl’s spark as Ratchet made the incisions. It flickered a few times, but didn’t gutter.

Ratchet pulled the sparkling out and handed it off to First Aid, who cleaned it up and made sure it was fine before taking various measurements. Ratchet started to clean up around the incision before patching it and had to reset his optics. He reached in again and pulled out a second sparkling. He checked it over quickly.

“Here’s your spark echo, Aid. He was carrying twins,” he said with a little smile. “Their sparks probably went out of sync from the stress and that’s why they were in distress. Make sure to keep them close together so it doesn’t happen again.”

“They’re adorable.” The younger medic took the other sparkling. “Are you going to need help?”

“Not unless he crashes again. Take care of the little ones.” Patching Prowl up didn’t take a lot of time, and as soon as he had washed up and taken Prowl out of stasis, he picked up one of the sparklings.

It was impossible to tell which was which at this point. They were both protoform-grey with soft little sensory wings just beginning to unfurl from their bodies. Tiny nubs adorned their helms, which were shaped exactly like miniature versions of their sire’s. The sparkling Ratchet held blinked dim lavender-grey optics at him and yawned, then stuck its hand to its mouth and sucked on it.

They were smaller than a typical sparkling, but being twins, he supposed they would be. First Aid held the other twin and rocked it in his arms. They were as physically perfect as sparklings came, though their sparks were a little weak. That would change as long as they were held close to their creators’ sparks. But with Prowl’s spark being in worse shape than his sparklings’ and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker unconscious, that strengthening energy might be in short supply.

Bluestreak poked his head into the room. “Oh, there you are. Is he okay? Oh my gosh, he had twins!? Can I hold one?”

Ratchet smiled at the Datsun. “Of course you can hold one. I need to go check on our twins anyway. Prowl’s unconscious right now; he had a rough time and we had to cut the sparklings out, and then he crashed. I took him out of stasis, so he could wake up at any time.” He deposited the sparkling he held into Bluestreak’s waiting arms.

Blue cooed at it and began talking, telling it all about life on the _Ark_ and the mechs there. He talked about Prowl and the twins. He talked about their human friends. Anything he could think of, he talked about excitedly to the sparkling. It stared at him with those big dim optics, waving its arms and cooing back. The other sparkling cooed in response to its sibling and tiny engines purred contentedly.

Eventually Bluestreak fell silent, just looking adoringly at the sparkling. He let it grab his finger and wave it around. It pulled the finger to its mouth and sucked on it hungrily, then let out a little wail when nothing was forthcoming. The other sparkling began crying and they were left with two very unhappy newborns.

“Do you want to feed it?” First Aid asked. “I can turn on the protocols if you want.”

“Absolutely! It should be Prowl, but he’s still out. And he can’t feed both at the same time.”

“Here, let me just jack in quickly…” He suited actions to words, finding the protocols and activating them. “It’ll take a few minutes for your systems to filter enough energon, but you can let it suck on the line until that happens.”

Bluestreak curled his hand gently around the sparkling’s head and let the fuel line in his wrist pop free. The sparkling eagerly latched onto it, making little whining noises as it suckled. First Aid fed the other twin and soon the room was filled with pleased engine purrs and sucking sounds.

Prowl woke, a bit muzzy at first, then looked over at the two mechs, each holding a sparkling, and began crying with joy and relief. He raised the head of his berth so he could sit up. First Aid handed over his sleeping sparkling and Prowl took it and marvelled at how tiny it was.

Bluestreak stood by Prowl’s berth and swayed back and forth with his little burden, keeping the twins close enough together that they didn’t become distressed without the other’s field nearby. Ratchet came back in and chatted with them for a while, then left to get some sleep of his own.

“They’re beautiful,” Prowl murmured, gently stroking his sparkling’s cheek. “They’re perfect. I can’t believe they’re mine. I have two, Blue. _Two_. I _never_ thought I’d have twins.”

“I know. It’s so exciting! Do you have names for them yet?”

“Beacon and Flare,” he said, nodding first to the one in his own arms, then the one Bluestreak held.

“They’re perfect names. I love them! Primus, I’m so happy they’re here! Little Flare,” he cooed, then began singing an old Praxian lullaby.

Prowl listened, cuddling Beacon close. Bluestreak had a remarkable singing voice but he so seldom used it. It nearly lulled him to sleep with its soft, calming sound. He opened his optics to see Beacon looking at him and chewing on his hand. He smiled and took an image capture, making sure to tag it with all of the pertinent information.

Flare woke with a squeal of feedback from his vocaliser, at which he did a full-body jerk, surprised, with optics almost comically wide. Beacon jumped right along with him and the reaction pulled a laugh from Prowl. And then a groan as pain from the incision in his abdomen hit.

“Are you okay? Do I need to get First Aid?”

“No, Blue, I’m fine. I probably shouldn’t be laughing, though. It hurts.”

“Let me get Aid and see if he can do anything to help with that.” He moved over to the door and looked around. “Is it okay if I take Flare out with me?” he asked, not seeing who he was looking for.

“Yes, just don’t be gone for too long.”

“I won’t.” He stepped out and walked toward Ratchet’s office, trying to get a lead on where the Protectobot was.

“Blue.”

Bluestreak turned and almost jumped. Smokescreen had snuck up on him and was only arm’s length away. “Smokey, you’re not supposed to be here!” he whispered urgently.

“I wanted to try to see the sparkling. It’s all over base that he’s arrived. I’m surprised Prowl let you bring him out. He’s a cute one,” the blue mech said wistfully. “I don’t suppose you’d let me hold him?”

“I can’t, Smokey. If Prowl finds out, I’m a dead mech walking.”

“Just for a minute, Blue. You looked like you were on a mission. Let me hold him until you come back. _Please_.”

“Smokey,” he whined, drawing out the end of the name. “Don’t do this to me.”

“If you don’t tell, Prowl will never know. I’m certainly not going to be saying anything. My lips are zipped.”

“Fine, but if Prowl finds out, we’re both dead. He’ll kill me and then I’ll haunt you to death. You know that, right?”

“I know. Thanks, Blue.”

“Yeah, thank me later with a good high grade.”

*

Smokescreen stared down at the perfect little Praxian sparkling in his arms and felt a familiar clench of his spark. The sparkling looked back at him with rounded optics. A little hand waved uncoordinatedly in the air, then pulled in to his mouth and he chewed on his fingers. He remembered his own sparkling and held Prowl’s closer to his chest as he choked back a sob.

He walked over to where the twins lay, rocking the sparkling the whole time. “This is your sire,” he said to him at Sunstreaker’s berth, “and this is his brother. They love you very much. Everybody here loves you very much. We’re all so happy you’re here. I’m not supposed to be holding you, but I had to. I wish I could be part of your life, but your carrier said I can’t, so this is probably the only time I’ll get to see you up close.

“I had a sparkling once, but I was an idiot and left her and she died. I’d like to think I’ve learned from that, but Prowl is very set on blaming me. And he has every reason and right to. And then it didn’t help that he lost his first sparkling not long after. I think he blames me for that, too. But he’s very lucky to have you now, and I hope the two of you have a very happy life together with the twins. Blue didn’t tell me your name, little one, but I’m sure it’s a good one. Prowl was always good with names.”

He sighed heavily when he saw Bluestreak returning with Ratchet. He was in for it now. His only comfort was that Bluestreak would probably get it as well. He was surprised when Ratchet only gave him a glare. He handed the sparkling back to Blue and beat a hasty retreat.


	15. Chapter 15

Ratchet fixed Bluestreak with a sharp glare. “The _only_ reason I’m not going to say anything to Prowl is because I think he’s being a little too harsh on Smokey. I know Prowl’s upset with him, but completely banning him from his sparklings’ lives will be a bit difficult here on the _Ark_. They’ll cross paths eventually.”

“Yeah. Smokey’s beat himself up a lot since he lost his sparkling. It hit him hard.” Bluestreak booped Flare’s nose and the sparkling squealed at him.

“I would imagine. Well, let’s go see what we can do for Prowl.”

He was dozing with Beacon laying on his chest when they walked in. The sparkling had his head in the crook of Prowl’s neck and was making a little humming noise that quit as soon as he felt his brother’s field. Flare chirped and Beacon answered with a chirr.

“Blue here tells me you’re in pain,” Ratchet said when Prowl opened his optics and looked at them.

“A little,” he admitted. “I didn’t hurt until I laughed, and now it’s on fire.”

“I can dampen the sensors around the area, but that doesn’t mean you can get up or anything. You need to heal.”

Prowl nodded his agreement. Ratchet jacked in and turned the sensors down. It would leave a faint ache, but nowhere near the level of pain he was feeling. Prowl visibly relaxed with the pain gone.

“Thank you,” he said. “Did you want to hold Beacon again?”

“I’ll hold him all day if you let me, and won’t get a damn thing done.” Ratchet smiled as Prowl handed off the little bundle of sparkling. “What’d you name the other one?”

“Flare.”

“Beacon and Flare. I like that.”

“Here, Prowl. You can have Flare. I need to report for duty soon. Well, in five minutes, so I guess it’s _very_ soon.” He deposited the sparkling in Prowl’s waiting arms and pressed their chevrons together. “They’re gorgeous sparklings, and I hope you’ll let me help take care of them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you away. Have a good shift.”

Flare chirruped and chewed on his hand. Prowl brushed a hand over his cheek and the sparkling tried to follow it with his mouth. Prowl smiled and let his feeding line pop free and fed his sparkling for the first time.

Ratchet pulled the chair over and sat, feeding the other twin. They talked a little bit, then Prowl asked, “How is Sideswipe?”

Ratchet sighed. “He’s alive, but it’s going to take a lot of therapy and work to get him back into fighting shape. And this is assuming he doesn’t have permanent nerve damage, which is a distinct possibility. He won’t be able to transform any more, though. His transformation cog was shot to the point I had to remove it. I’m worried about Sunstreaker, though. He crashed at the same time Sideswipe did, and he’s still unconscious even though he should’ve woken up yesterday. I think they were so enmeshed in their bond when Sideswipe got shot that they’re still connected. And when Sideswipe crashed, Sunstreaker did, too.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. It means whatever happens to one twin will happen to the other. So if Sideswipe crashes again, Sunny will also. And if that happens - and Primus forbid it does - I can’t save both at the same time by myself. I’m scheduling First Aid in for as much time with me as I can justify, but the kid needs to sleep sometime. Might just let him use the cot in my office and keep the door open so I can yell at him if I need him.”

“That sounds like a solid plan.” A pause. “Are their sparks really so unstable?”

“They’re very dim, so it’s possible they could go unstable at any time. They flicker sometimes - not enough to trigger the alarms, but enough that it’s noticeable. All five of you are weak-sparked right now, although Beacon and Flare are better off. And the more they’re held close to your spark, the better they’ll get.”

“That’s good to know, at the very least.” Prowl smiled down at Flare, who had his cheek smushed up against the plating of Prowl’s protoform and was fast asleep. His mouth made sporadic little sucking motions and tiny fingers flexed against Prowl’s plating. “How long will it take for Sideswipe to be awake and terrorising you?” Prowl asked.

“I don’t know. I still have to replace a lot of parts and reconnect his nervous system - or at least what wasn’t damaged beyond repair - before I take him out of stasis. After that, it’s up to his self-repair to wake him up. And when he does come out of it, he’s going to be sore for a good while. His spark chamber cracked, and that’ll take time to heal properly. Assuming it does.”

Prowl frowned. “Who shot him?”

“Skywarp. From what I’ve gathered, Sideswipe took out Thundercracker and was going for Skywarp, but he teleported away, then came back while Sides was falling and shot him up.” Ratchet scowled. “Fragger can go teleport into a smelter. Next opportunity, I’m aiming to kill.”

Prowl’s optics promised death. “As am I.”

“ _You_ are not going to be in a position to do any shooting until these sparklings are older.”

“I have other options at my disposal.”

Ratchet shook his head. “I hope you’re not planning to send in Special Ops just to kill a Seeker.”

“No, that would be a waste of resources. But if said Seeker was to have a fatal accident on the next mission to the _Victory_ , I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“I doubt you could.”

There was a tap on the doorframe and both mechs turned to look. Wheeljack stood just outside the room, a smile squinting his optics.

“Heya, Ratch. Brought those parts you needed. Let me know where you want ‘em and I’ll just leave ‘em for ya.”

Ratchet stood up and helped Prowl rearrange Flare so he could hold both sparklings. The contentment radiating from the mech was palpable and only marred by his worry over Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Once Beacon had joined Flare on Prowl’s chest, Ratchet beckoned for Wheeljack to follow and they left the room.

Ratchet pulled an empty surgery cart over to Sideswipe’s berth and Wheeljack set the parts out on it, then Ratchet covered the whole thing with a clean tarp. Ratchet talked as he examined the repairs he’d made, checking for infection and corrosion. Fortunately there was none, though that crack in his spark chamber still worried Ratchet. There was no telling how long that would take to heal, and there was no guarantee it would ever heal properly. Sideswipe would likely be permanently off the battle roster, which would make the red twin rather irate.

Jazz popped in to talk to Ratchet about the twins. There was no change, Ratchet told him, and that if he wanted something to do to go talk to Prowl. He did, and soon the strains of Jazz’s voice singing to the sparklings wafted through the medbay.

Ratchet smiled and shook his head. The song may not have been completely safe for sparklings, but it was a slow song with a soothing tune, and he could just see the large lavender optics staring at the Porsche as their owners took in the music.

He washed up and began working on replacing the parts Wheeljack had brought. No time like the present to get the frontliner back into working shape, or at least as close to it as he could get him.

First Aid wandered over and began helping. They talked as they worked, Jazz’s singing a nice and hopeful background ambience.

*

“Heya, Prowler! Ratch told me to come talk to you if I wanted something to do, so here I am! And I see ya had twins! Look a lot like Sideswipe, if you ask me.”

“They do,” Prowl said, adoration in his voice, “though they’re definitely Praxian also. Be careful with their wings; they’re still very delicate.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting the babes, Prowler. Ya know that.” He smiled and ran a finger down Beacon’s cheek. The sparkling woke, following that finger with his mouth. Jazz let him chew on it for a minute, then asked, “Can I hold ‘em?”

“Both?”

“Sure. Give you a bit of a break and I get to see ‘em up close.”

Prowl settled each sparkling into one of Jazz’s arms and Jazz gave him a kiss on the helm. “Ya did good, mech. They’re perfect. Mind if I sing to ‘em?”

“No, go right ahead. Would you mind if I took a little nap?”

“Nah, mech. Go for it. Ya brought two beautiful sparklings into the world; you deserve a nice rest. I’ll keep ‘em entertained for ya.” Jazz nuzzled Flare’s helm and the sparkling tried to grab his lip. Jazz laughed melodically, then started singing.

Two pairs of lavender-grey optics blinked at him as the sparklings listened and waved their arms at him. Jazz slow-danced around the room, rocking the sparklings in his arms. Prowl was out almost immediately. Jazz seemed to have no end of songs to sing, some from Cybertron, some from Earth, some from civilisations that he hadn’t encountered in a very long time. Beacon and Flare took them all in, cooing at Jazz between songs and sucking and chewing on their hands while listening.

Jazz danced over to the doorway and looked out into the medbay proper. Ratchet and First Aid were working diligently on Sideswipe, talking away. About what, Jazz didn’t know, but it was hardly important to him compared to the little lives in his arms.

One squealed happily when he finished his latest song and the other followed suit. Ratchet and Aid looked up and around at him and Jazz grinned. Ratchet finished off installing the part he’d been working with and wiped up. He walked over and matched Jazz’s grin.

“Adorable, aren’t they?”

“Sure are. Seem to like my singing, too, so they’ve got good taste. Prowl’s napping right now. Poor mech needs it.”

“He does. He’s not going to be getting much sleep when I release him, with these two to look after. Bluestreak’ll help, but he’s not going to be taken out of rotation, so there’s no guarantee he’ll be there every time Prowl needs help. Until they settle into a routine, it’s going to be pandemonium, and we all know how well Prowl deals with chaos.”

“Yeah. I can’t spare a lot of time, but I’ll try to help when I can. I know a mech who’d love to help as much as Blue does, but Prowl’s pretty adamant that Smokey not be allowed near him or the sparklings.”

“Primus, I wish he could let that go. Yeah, it was horrible, but it’s been a long time and Smokey’s learned from it I’d hope. He was holding back tears earlier when Blue mistakenly let him hold Flare. And don’t you breathe a word about that to Prowl or I’ll reformat you into a toaster.”

Beacon whimpered and nommed on his wrist. Flare waved both hands at Jazz’s face, then pulled them in and sucked on his fingers. Once they were good and wet, he reached for Jazz’s face again, giggling when he caught hold of his lip.

“Bleh!” Jazz exclaimed as Ratchet laughed. “Here, take him.” Once his arm was free, he wiped his mouth of the offending moisture. “That’s disgustin’.”

“Yeah, but he was having fun.” Ratchet bounced Flare and the sparkling giggled and reached for Ratchet. The medic pulled him in close and snuggled him while continuing to bounce on his toes.

Beacon grew increasingly fussy, sucking at his wrist with more fervour.

“Here, I’ll trade you, Jazz. He’s hungry, and since Prowl’s still sleeping, I’ll go ahead and feed him.”

They switched sparklings and Ratchet sat in the chair in Prowl’s room to feed Beacon. The sparkling gulped noisily from Ratchet’s feeding line, then settled into a more sedate pace. His optics closed as he sucked and soon he was sleep-nursing. Ratchet held him close to his spark, knowing it wasn’t as good as his creators’ sparks, but it would still help strengthen the little one.

Jazz continued dancing around the room, singing softly to Flare, who clearly adored the third in command. Little hands - dry this time - patted at his face and smudged his visor on the sides when Jazz nuzzled Flare’s belly and blew raspberries there. Flare belly-laughed each time, squealing in joy.

And all the while, an exhausted Prowl slept on.


	16. Chapter 16

The twins were fussing. They shouldn’t be hungry yet, and he was giving them as much attention as he was able. With two of them, though, Prowl was finding it difficult.

He’d been released from medbay with the twins yesterday, and everything had been fine. But now… Now he could do nothing right. If Beacon cried, Flare did also, and vice versa. If one was hungry, they both were. They wouldn’t sleep. He’d tried singing to them, but that had been a disaster. He didn’t have the best singing voice, but he hadn’t thought it was bad, either.

He held them both, bouncing and rocking them and humming a tuneless little song. Flare screamed and cried harder, prompting his brother to do the same. Both sucked at their wrists and kicked and flailed. Prowl almost lost his grip on both of them.

How to feed them both at the same time? He knew it was possible; he had feeding lines in both wrists. An idea popped into his head and he lay the twins down in their berth and went to get two of the fluffiest pillows he owned. He set them down on the side cushions of his sofa, leaving the middle open, then picked the screaming twins up again.

He sat down and settled a twin on each pillow, then wrapped his hands alongside and under their helms and let the feeding lines pop free. Each twin latched on immediately, nursing noisily, their cries halted for the time being. Prowl let his helm fall backward in relief at the sudden quiet. He looked back down at his sparklings to see wide optics staring back at him, cleansing fluid still streaming from them.

He wanted to wipe the tears away and cuddle them close, but both his hands were occupied at the moment. Cuddles would have to wait.

They nursed on, eventually slowing. The tears had finally stopped, though Beacon was looking around anxiously. Flare was focussed on his carrier for the moment, blinking slowly at him and waving his arms and gurgling. Beacon began to fuss again and Flare started up a quiet droning sound. Beacon listened for a while, but when Flare started to doze off, he scrunched his little face up and cried.

Flare jerked awake with a squawk and soon both sparklings were back to fussing no matter what Prowl did to dissuade them. Finally he folded up and subspaced the sparklings’ berth and picked them up one to a shoulder and left his quarters. He headed for medbay, hoping those familiar surroundings would settle the twins.

It was like magic, stepping through the medbay doors. Beacon stopped his screaming, and Flare quickly followed suit. Prowl trudged over to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s berths, settling a twin between open chest armour on both of the larger twins. He quickly set up the sparkling berth, then picked Flare up from Sideswipe’s chest.

Sideswipe’s spark dimmed when the sparkling was lifted off of him. Prowl lowered Flare closer, and the red frontliner’s spark brightened again. He put Flare back where he’d been and moved over to see if the same thing happened with Sunstreaker.

It did.

He stood between the berths, keeping a close optic on his sparklings. If his and Sideswipe’s - and by extension, Sunstreaker’s - sparks would help strengthen the sparklings’, why couldn’t the opposite be true? Both sparklings set to making that low, droning noise and soon they were asleep.

*

Ratchet heard the noise and came out into medbay proper to see who was doing what to whatever. Prowl stood between the twins’ berths, watching them closely, the sparkling berth set up behind him. He approached quietly, not wanting to startle the sparklings. “Prowl. Why are there sparklings on my patients?”

“They seem to be helping each other. Beacon and Flare wouldn’t sleep in our quarters at all today, and when I lay them on the twins to set up the berth, their sparks brightened. I believe that what you told me about holding the sparklings close to our sparks to strengthen theirs works the other way, as well. And my twins are finally sleeping.”

“Hard day?”

“You have no idea. I did figure out how to feed both at once, though.”

Ratchet laughed. “Oh?”

“Pillows.”

“Ah. Yeah, that’d work.”

“Do you mind if we stay here for a while? It’s nice to have the quiet, and I’d like to sit with the twins for a bit.”

“By all means. I’ve done what I can for Sideswipe and he’s out of stasis. They’re both in comas, though. I don’t know if they’ll hear anything you say to them, but it couldn’t hurt to talk to them if you want. I’ll go grab you a chair.”

“Thank you.” He rubbed Flare’s back and the sparkling chirped in his sleep.

Ratchet smiled as he went to fetch the chair. Prowl’s twins were just too cute. He debated with himself for a moment, then grabbed another one and dragged them back to the twins’ berths. He did have other things to do, but talking with Prowl and spending time with the bitlets for a little while was more than acceptable.

They sat, the chairs more than high enough to see if the sparklings started to move. The twins’ open armour would keep them from rolling off to the sides if they wiggled too much. But right then they seemed to be content to just sleep on the twins, little fingers flexing against protoform and mouths moving. Occasionally one would smile in his sleep, and that was just the cutest thing.

Prowl sucked in air, then blew it back out. “How much damage could you not repair?” he asked, a crease between his brow ridges.

“Too much. His nervous system was a mess, and I had to cut out many of the connections and make adjustments to the ones that weren’t damaged. Whenever he comes out of this coma, he’s going to have to relearn how to walk, and he likely won’t have full feeling in his legs. If it’s too bad, he’ll be confined to a hoverchair. He’s going to need a lot of support anyway, but especially if it comes to that.”

“I’ll stay by him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good. Glad to hear that. I’m seriously worried about how he’ll take all of this. I’m also worried that this is going to translate to Sunstreaker, even though there’s nothing physically wrong with him. The mind is a powerful thing, and so is the spark.”

“Anything I should know about their condition?”

“Right now I’m confining it to Sideswipe, since I have no idea whether it’ll transfer.” Beacon moved and Prowl was half out of his seat until the sparkling settled back down. “It’s going to affect every aspect of his life. He likely won’t ask for help even when he needs it, though he’ll probably be able to figure out a way to do almost everything he did before eventually. Even if he’s confined to a hoverchair he’ll be able to stand for short periods of time, so that’ll help him adjust at least a little. But there’s no way you’ll be able to be there for him all the time because you have sparklings to take care of.”

“I’ll manage. The quarters next to theirs are empty, perhaps we can expand into there and the sparklings and I can move in.”

“Might be a good idea, might not. Depends on what they want. They may not want you to move in at this point. They probably _will_ need the extra space, though, especially if Sides is in a chair. I’d go ahead and start the expansion project. Get with Grapple, he’ll know what needs to be installed, and he’ll probably have ideas on how to improve the space they have.”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have a project to work on, even if it’s something mundane like this. I’ll make sure all of their belongings are well taken care of and put back in place as best I can.”

“Come to think of it, there aren’t that many mechs in that section of housing, are there?” Ratchet mused. “Might just leave their quarters the way they are and pick two or three others to combine into a nice big housing unit. That way their stuff won’t have to be moved and they can decide whether or not to move in with you and the sparklings.”

“That sounds like a better idea. Thank you, Ratchet. I’ll get in touch with Grapple as soon as I can to get the ball rolling.

*

Grapple was ecstatic to have a new project to design and work on. Almost as soon as Prowl had explained the plan to him, he was drawing up blueprints. He murmured to himself as he worked, and asked Prowl what kinds of amenities he’d like. He made quite the list of things to include, like an adjustable and detachable showerhead in the washrack and an energon prep station. The berthrooms would be large and the living area open and spacious.

He enquired about Prowl’s taste in furniture and colours. Whether he preferred this or that. So many questions that Prowl was at a loss to answer.

“Well, we’ll get that sorted out when it’s closer to being ready for that sort of thing,” Grapple had said. “I’ll get right on this and we’ll have it done before you know it.”

*

He was back in the medbay with Beacon and Flare. Bluestreak was with them this time and the sparklings were trying to push up onto their hands and knees. They’d already mastered raising up on their hands and rolling over, so when they were on the twins’ chests, they had to be watched constantly.

Every day that passed when the sparklings were near the twins’ sparks was a day that those sparks grew brighter. Eventually they were bright and steady enough that Ratchet took them off the monitors. Each day was a day closer to when they would wake up.

Prowl was exhausted. Mentally and physically. Taking care of two demanding sparklings was draining. He’d dealt with one before. Sparkling-sitting for a day or two used to be one of his favourite things. But two… And on his own.

Well, mostly. Bluestreak did help a lot when he was able, but that wasn’t as much as Prowl needed. The twins woke in the middle of the night to be fed or rocked or just because. And Prowl was unable to sleep more often than not worrying about one thing or another.

He was definitely worried about Sideswipe. Despite being the more stable of the twins, he was still unpredictable, and how he would react to no longer being able to transform was a definite question mark. He might blow it off like he did with so many other things. Or he could take it very, _very_ badly. He loved to race with his brother across the desert around the _Ark_ or on the various racetracks they were invited to. Now there was no way he’d be able to do that.

And the limited mobility would probably infuriate him. He was a very active mech. Very social. The social aspect probably wouldn’t be hampered too much, but his activities would be. How would he handle that?

Ratchet had offered assistance for his sleeping problems, but it deafened him to his sparklings’ cries when he had tried it, and he hadn’t accepted since. 

“Prowl?”

“Hmm?” He shook himself out of his daze and looked at Bluestreak.

“Go take a nap. I can watch the twins for you.”

“Blue…”

“No. Don’t make me get Ratchet,” he said loudly.

“Who needs me?” Ratchet leaned his head out of the doorway to his office.

“I told Prowl to go take a nap and he’s arguing with me.”

“Prowl…” Ratchet’s saying of his name promised some kind of punishment that was sure to be unpleasant.

He backed down with hands held up, palms out. “I’ll lay down in my old room, if that’s okay.”

“Just get some sleep. I don’t care where you do it,” Ratchet grumped.

*

Another day, another visit in medbay.

It was routine by now that Prowl would bring the sparklings in to visit with the comatose twins. They no longer lay on the twins’ chests unless they were asleep, however, because they would crawl right off of them. If they weren’t in their playpen or being held, they required constant attention, and sometimes they needed constant attention even then. They would try to eat anything they could get their mouths on, and that included the occasional organic wildlife that got into the _Ark_. Like the snake. Prowl had been horrified, but not quite so much as Ratchet, who couldn’t be coaxed out of his locked office for hours after in case there were more of those… _things._

Their colours were beginning to shade in; Beacon was black and silver-white and Flare black and red. They were pulling themselves up on furniture and cruising around Prowl’s quarters (the nice, big housing unit wasn’t quite move-in ready), though they hadn’t taken their first steps unassisted yet. Prowl was still hoping Sideswipe would wake up before that. But as the days stretched into weeks and there was still no sign of waking… well, it wasn’t a good sign.

Prowl had resumed some of his datawork, the kind he could do while the little ones were sleeping. Ratchet would have preferred he get a nap in while he could, but Prowl just couldn’t justify it, not with the work needing done. Flare slept on Sideswipe’s still-bared chest while Beacon played quietly with their blocks in the playpen. Prowl glanced up over his datapad every so often to make sure the red twin was still asleep. 

He missed the subtle twitch of fingers, both black and gold. He missed the faint pickup in respiration. He missed the more substantial, full-body twitch that woke Flare. The sparkling pushed himself up on his hands and looked around and yawned. He looked down, getting ready to crawl away, and found lavender optics gazing disorientedly at him. He squealed.

Prowl set his datapad aside and got up to move Flare to the playpen. It wasn’t until a gravelly, rough, long-unused voice ground out, “Oh, a mini-me,” that he registered that Sideswipe’s optics were not only open but powered on fully.

He yelled for Ratchet and engulfed the frontliner in a hug, trapping their sparkling in between them.


	17. Chapter 17

Flare didn’t care for being squooshed between his parents and let them know with a rather loud squall. Prowl backed off, taking the sparkling with him, as Ratchet came flying out of his office.

“He’s awake! Ratchet, he’s awake!” He looked over at Sunstreaker and saw he was also conscious. “They both are!” He moved over and embraced the golden twin excitedly.

Sunstreaker returned the hug and started to sit up. He was stopped by a terse command from Ratchet and lay meekly until the medic could check him over. Once okayed, he levered himself to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the berth facing his brother.

He spotted the other sparkling in the playpen and said, “Frag me. Twins! Sides, _twins_!” His voice also started out gravelly, but smoothed out as he spoke more. He rose unsteadily and moved over to the playpen, leaning on it as he examined the silver twin.

Beacon looked up at the mech looking down at him and offered the block he held. He jabbered something unintelligible and smiled at him when he leaned down and took the block.

Sunstreaker beamed. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to hold the sparkling, but he wasn’t steady enough to do so yet. Ratchet was fussing over Sideswipe and he focussed there.

“How do you feel?” Ratchet asked Sideswipe.

“Like the fourth day of a three day pass. I got hit bad, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, kid. You could say that. Anything in particular I should know about how you’re feeling?”

“My chest feels like Devastator stepped on it. And I can’t feel my legs.” He paused. “Actually, I can’t feel anything below my chest.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Your chest hurts because your spark crystal is cracked. It’s going to hurt for a while because it’s not going to heal fast. And you’re going to have to take some nasty-tasting supplements to help it heal faster than it would by itself.”

Ratchet sighed. “You can’t feel anything below your chest because your nervous system was damaged beyond repair. I was hoping that the re-routes I made would help that, but it looks like they didn’t. You’re going to be confined to a hoverchair unless some miraculous procedure presents itself. And even if it does and you get full use of your legs back, you’re never going to be able to transform again. I had to remove your t-cog. It was shot to hell and back, no chance of repair.”

“Oh.”

The lack of reaction was not what anyone was expecting. Sunstreaker could feel the turmoil in his twin’s spark, but it was muted like it hadn’t completely sunk in yet. And it probably hadn’t. It was a lot to take in, especially for one as active as Sideswipe. To be stuck in a hoverchair… Sunstreaker couldn’t even imagine it.

Prowl bounced Flare on his hip. The sparkling reached out toward Sideswipe, wanting to be put back on his chest.

“Can I sit up?” Sides asked.

Ratchet quickly raised the head of the berth, but not so much that Sideswipe would slip downward. Without feeling in his lower body, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself upright as easily.

“I want to hold him,” Sideswipe said of Flare. “And I want to see his twin.”

Prowl looked at Ratchet, who nodded. He held Flare out for Sideswipe to take, then turned to pick up Beacon.

Flare patted Sideswipe’s face and cooed at him, little sensory panels fluttering around Sideswipe’s arm. Beacon watched his brother and his sire and chewed on his fingers. He started up the quiet droning noise they both made when they were anxious or nervous or out of each other’s field range. Prowl bounced him a little and kissed his helm to comfort him.

“They’re crawling, and pulling themselves up on furniture,” Prowl said. “That’s Flare you’re holding, and this is Beacon. I remembered you liked that name.”

“They’re perfect. I love the fact they have sensory panels.” Flare squealed happily. “I’m glad they’re happy and healthy. But how did we not know you were having twins?”

“One was hiding behind the other, and their sparkbeats and frequencies are exactly the same, so the equipment never picked up on the second one,” Ratchet answered. “Just like you and Sunstreaker. Perfect split-spark twins.”

Sunstreaker sat back down on his berth. “May I hold Beacon?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” The silver-white twin went to Sunstreaker easily enough, though he never stopped the droning noise.

As the older twins played with the younger, Prowl smiled. His family was complete. Sideswipe would have some trouble adjusting, he was sure, but he was alive and conscious and playing with their sparkling. And Sunstreaker was awake and holding the other, and it was just so peaceful. He felt most of the tension he’d been living under flow out of him, and all of a sudden all he wanted to do was sleep. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“We’ve a new housing unit for all of us if you want to move in with the twins and me. It’s not quite ready to move into yet, but it should only take a couple more days. Sunstreaker, if you want to help pick out paint for the rooms, I would appreciate it. I’m no good at aesthetics.”

“Move in with you?” Sideswipe asked. “Why wouldn’t we want to? I’ll be of almost no use, but I’d like to be able to be there when you get off shift.”

Prowl smiled. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. “Right now I’m working from wherever I happen to be. Mostly medbay, recently. The sparklings like it here with you two, so we stay here most of the day.”

“Pfft. Make that all day, every day since he was released from here.” Ratchet ignored the glare he was given. “He’s barely left your sides. Although the sparklings _do_ seem to like it here. Don’t know why.”

“They love your bedside manner,” Sunstreaker said.

“Doesn’t everybody?” Ratchet joked. “‘S why everyone’s so eager to get out of here, you know.”

“Do you have a chair for me?” Sideswipe asked quietly.

“Not yet. Wheeljack is still working on it. It’ll be ready in a day or so. And you’re not getting away that easily, anyway. There are a couple of tweaks I might be able to do to help with sensation, if you’re willing to try.”

“Yeah.” Flare patted the protoform around Sideswipe’s spark. The armour that would normally protect it was locked open, and Ratchet moved to remove the lock. “I’ll try anything.”

“I’m sorry, Sideswipe. I did everything I could think to do. I’m still looking through the medical database on conditions like yours to see if there could be _anything_ to help.”

“I know, doc.” He handed Flare back to Prowl. “I think I’d like to be alone for a while right now.”

“I’ll move you to a private room.” Ratchet disconnected the few remaining monitors and picked the frontliner up easily. He carried him to the private ward and settled him in a room. He shut the door and put the window on opaque.

“There’s nothing in there he can use to hurt himself,” Ratchet said as he returned. “And we’d disarmed him after we took him out of stasis, just in case he woke up still in battle mode. He needs time to process all of this.”

“I know. I feel so helpless.”

“He knows you’re here for him,” Sunstreaker said. “Both of you. But he’s really upset that he can’t play with the sparklings like he wanted to. He’s just plain upset. Angry. There’s despair there, too, and depression. I think if he could throw things, he would. Right now he’s just screaming.”

Prowl’s doorwings drooped and his field pulled in close. Flare started in on the droning noise, joining his brother. They were trying to self-soothe and comfort their carrier at the same time. Sunstreaker rose and embraced Prowl, sparklings nestled between them comfortably. Prowl looked up and Sunstreaker looked down and then they were kissing, hard and desperate.

Sunstreaker poured his frustration with the situation into the kiss. Prowl took it and gave back all the worry he’d built up over them. Both gave relief that Sideswipe was alive, even if he wasn’t ‘whole’.

“I’ll leave you four alone,” Ratchet said. “You don’t need me here. Sunny, you’re free to leave any time.” He headed for his office, then turned back around. “Do you want to be able to feed them?” he asked Sunstreaker.

“Of course I do,” came the answer immediately.

“All right. Let me turn on the protocols. It’ll take a few minutes before your body filters enough energon for them, but it doesn’t look like they’re too hungry right now, so you’ll be fine.” When he was done, he returned to his office and shut the door. Soon after, they heard the faint clatter of datapads hitting the floor and wall.

*

The fresh smell of paint greeted them as the door to their new quarters opened. Sideswipe’s jaw dropped at the sheer size of the space and he hugged Beacon and Flare close. The sparklings squeaked and chirped and clapped their hands when they felt the surprise in their sire’s field. Sunstreaker and Prowl moved in behind the hoverchair, boxes of the twins’ possessions in their arms.

“C’mon, Sides, your stuff is heavy,” Sunstreaker complained, awe in his voice at the open space.

Sideswipe manoeuvred his chair into the living area and took a slow spin around. Beacon leaned back against him while Flare bounced, all three taking in the space. The living area had a plush couch and a couple of well-padded chairs, along with a large viewscreen. There was a table with chairs next to the energon prep station. There were four doors, apart from the main door, off the room, leading to what had to be berthrooms and a washrack.

Sideswipe couldn’t believe it. They’d taken into account the fact that he was chair-bound when laying everything out, too. There were no tight spaces to get caught up in. The doors were a little wider than normal. He followed Prowl to the room they were stacking the boxes in.

It was a large berthroom with an extra-large, extra-plush berth. A door was set into the right wall and he guided the chair over to it. It opened automatically into a large, beautifully tiled private washrack with accommodations for him and his hoverchair. He backed out again, throat tight, and went to explore the rest of the unit.

There were two berthrooms and two washracks. The smaller of the washracks was clearly for the sparklings and brightly decorated. The other berthroom was almost equal in size to the master, but held far less and seemed to be much larger than it actually was. A double berth - sparkling grade - was in the middle of the room, waiting to be moved to where it would normally rest. A mound of plush toys took over one corner of the room. A small dresser filled with blankets took residence against one wall.

“How do you like it?” Prowl asked, appearing at his left side.

“It’s amazing. It’s perfect. I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

“Technically, it was for all of us. But we did take your likely condition into heavy consideration when designing the unit. Grapple will be glad to hear his work is appreciated.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Prowl leaned down and kissed Sideswipe. The twins in his lap turned their faces up for kisses as well, and Prowl smooched each. “Do you need anything?”

“I _need_ to be out of this damned chair. I _need_ to be able to walk, to pick up our sparklings and toss them up and catch them and tickle them. I _need_ to be able to do things on my own again. I _need_ Skywarp to pay for what he’s done. I _need_ this war to be over so I don’t have to worry about my brother going out and fighting without me. I _need_ to be able to transform again, so I can feel the wind on my plating as I race Sunny across the desert.” He stopped his rant with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. But no, I don’t need anything.”

“There is nothing for you to be sorry about. What happened to you was wrong, and I’ll do my best to make sure Skywarp pays. I’ll also see what I can do about ending the war. You have a right to your feelings, and they’re perfectly legitimate.” Prowl kissed him on the temple. “You’re not alone, though. I can’t begin to understand the problems you face, currently and in the future, but I can listen to you and try to help.”

“Thanks.”

Flare nommed his wrist while wiggling around, trying to get into position to be fed. He accidentally kicked Beacon in the process, who retaliated with a resounding _smack_ to his brother’s plating.

Prowl immediately plucked Beacon from Sideswipe’s lap and held the little fist gently in his own. “No. We don’t hit.” Cleansing fluid welled up in Beacon’s optics at the admonishment and his bottom lip trembled. Prowl pulled him close and hugged him tight, placing a kiss on the little helm.

“Let’s go back out to the living room and we can feed them,” Sideswipe suggested. “They’re both probably tired, too. Long day.”

They did, and Prowl sat in one of the soft chairs that cushioned his wings just right. Sideswipe parked his chair next to him, and they proceeded to feed their sparklings.

Sunstreaker returned with another couple of boxes and put them away. He came back out and stretched out on the sofa lengthwise. “Got a couple more boxes, then we’re done and all moved in. I’ll go get them later, though. We can unpack tomorrow. Right now a break sounds great.”

Soon the room was quiet except for small sucking noises as the sparklings nursed, all its occupants relaxed and silently enjoying the company.


	18. Chapter 18

Ratchet barely slept. He spent most of his off time going through database after database of medical information trying to find something to help Sideswipe. Every so often he’d hit on something that would give him hope and he’d call Sides in to discuss the procedure with him.

They tried everything. Sideswipe was not taking well to being chairbound, and his temper was getting shorter with every passing day. Never with the sparklings, but things were taking their toll on his relationship both with Prowl and with his brother. Not to mention everyone else.

No one would actually come right out and say anything, but the general consensus seemed to be now that Sideswipe was up and mobile, he should be doing something. Sunstreaker had been put back in the rotation three days after he’d woken up from his coma, and Prowl was still doing his work from wherever he happened to be with the twins that day.

It wasn’t like Sideswipe didn’t _want_ to be back on the roster. Prowl was waiting for him to ‘adjust better’ to his condition. Ratchet doubted that would happen. At least not any time soon.

They’d gotten enough feeling back with some of the procedures they’d done that he could tell when he needed fuel now. It was a minor achievement, but at least now Sides wouldn’t have to rely on strict refuelling schedules.

Ratchet had assigned Sideswipe to a physical therapy routine every day so his joints wouldn’t lock up. First Aid was _so_ happy to be helping with that, Ratchet knew, but it had to be done. Ratchet was adamant that he would find something in his databases that would get Sideswipe back on his feet.

He was taking a break from his search to read up on sparkling medical care when something in the article caught his interest. Since they were still developing, sparklings could regrow certain organs and their nervous systems due to specialised cells in their systems. It got him thinking about how he could put those cells to use to help Sideswipe’s nervous system to regrow or at least partially repair itself, but only if he could harvest them.

Both Prowl and Sideswipe would have to agree to the procedure. Sideswipe likely would, but it could put the sparklings at risk. Prowl would be the difficult one, Ratchet was sure. And with good reason; there was no guarantee it would work. Harvesting the cells would be a risky procedure in itself, and could result in paralysis or even death if not performed correctly. And if one twin died, the other would go with him. Which would be a deterrent for Prowl’s permission.

Then introducing those cells into Sideswipe’s nervous system could be iffy. They’d have to go in from the back to get to the damaged portion of the system, close to the spinal struts. And even if everything went smoothly, there was the chance that his systems would reject the introduced material, leading to possible infection and worse.

If the surgery went well and Sideswipe’s systems didn’t reject the introduced cells, there was still no guarantee that they’d fix the problem. He might get partial use back, which would be enough to put Ratchet over the moon. He might get nothing, and be as stuck as he currently was. Or if everything went absolutely perfectly, he might, _might_ regain full use of his legs.

He’d research it more and run some tests and simulations. But then it was all up to Prowl.

*

“I want to be put back on duty.”

“Sideswipe…”

“I can do monitor duty. I don’t have to stand to do that. Hell, I could do guard duty at the front entrance. I’ll even run datapads for you. I’m just tired of Cliffjumper’s _looks_.”

“What looks?”

“The ones that say I’m a freeloader. Who knows what he’s saying behind my back? The little gremlin would have an aft whooping coming, but I can’t do even that any more. And it’s not just him. And the ones who look at me in pity are the worst. I hate it.”

“I’ve heard nothing from the rumour mill, but they may be keeping quieter since it’s become known that we’re together.”

“Look, just give me something to _do_. I’m going crazy. Infinite monitor duty would be so much more preferable a way to die.”

“Let me think on it and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Monitor duty~” Sideswipe sing-songed annoyingly.

“You have numerous attention problems that have kept you from performing well in that capacity in the past.”

“Yeah, but that was then. I can do better. I won’t even razz Red.”

“That would be something of a miracle.” He pulled up the scheduling programme. “We’ll do this on a trial basis. You report at 0800 tomorrow to the monitor room.”

“Thank you.” Emphasis on the ‘thank’. He pulled on a doorwing until Prowl leaned over in his seat, then gave the Praxian a big kiss on the cheek. Prowl turned into it and they kissed passionately for a moment.

Prowl pulled away and said, “Is that all?”

Sideswipe made a show of thinking. “I guess. For now. Really wishing I could bend you over your desk, though.”

Prowl’s wings shot up and his face flushed, but his field said he was, too, now that it had been mentioned. Sideswipe laughed bitterly and manoeuvred his chair out of Prowl’s office.

*

“These are our sparklings we’re talking about here, Ratchet! _Sparklings_!”

“I know that, Prowl. But your sparklings are Sideswipe’s only hope of walking again. Adult Cybertronians just don’t have the specialised cells that sparklings do. I can’t take nerves from you and transplant them into Sideswipe and have them work. But those cells can potentially grow into a new nervous system for Sideswipe!”

“Prowl, please,” Sideswipe started.

“I have waited my entire life for a sparkling, and now you’re asking me to risk both of their lives on a _possibility_? A _potentiality_? I am sorry that this happened to you, Sideswipe, but would you truly give up Beacon’s life just to walk again? Flare’s?”

“That’s a low blow, Prowl. You know Ratchet can do this surgery blindfolded. He’s the best.”

“The risks are there, but they’re minimal, Prowl.” Ratchet said. “I’ve been researching this for the last month. I’ve run simulations on simulations. I can do this, if you’ll just let me.”

“You’re exhausted. Your hands are shaking. I’m not letting you near my sparklings with a scalpel like that.”

“I will be freshly rested and shake-free if you give me your permission to try to help Sideswipe with this procedure. You have my word as a medic and as your friend.”

“I need some time to think about this. I’m too emotional right now. I can’t think. Just give me some time.”

“We can do that, right, Sides?” Ratchet said.

“Yeah. Got nothing but time. Can’t do anything else.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t give you an answer right now.”

“No need to be sorry, Prowl. This is a big decision and you do need time to think about it. I wasn’t expecting an answer today. Take the time you need and get back to me when you’ve made a decision.”

*

“What’s the big deal? Ratchet said the risks were minimal to the sparklings. Ratchet’s an amazing surgeon; I should know. He’s put me back together so many times… Except this last time he couldn’t. And now he comes to us with a possible solution and you say _no_?” Sideswipe shot at Prowl.

“I didn’t say no. I said I need to think about it. These are _our sparklings_ potentially going under Ratchet’s scalpel to maybe, _maybe_ get you back on your feet. And there’s no guarantee that it’ll work.”

“I have to try, Prowl. I can’t stand this, being stuck like this in this chair. I hate having to have you or Sunny help me wash off or put me to bed because I can’t do it by myself.”

“You don’t even try,” Prowl shot back. “You’re not trying to learn to cope with this disability because you’re so sure Ratchet will come up with a miracle to cure you. Chances are this won’t, either. And what happens then? When your last bastion falls? Will you fall into a depression worse than what you’re dealing with now? Or will you steel yourself and find a way to make it through each day without feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I’m not depressed, I’m angry.”

“At _everyone_. Especially me and Sunstreaker and Ratchet. And now you’re going to be angry with Beacon and Flare because they’re a potential cure for you. I won’t allow that, Sideswipe. I won’t tolerate it. They’re innocent. They’re not the reason you were shot. None of us are. You have no right to treat us the way you have been just because you’re angry, and I’m not going to deal with it any more. Beacon and Flare and I are going to be moving back into my old quarters for the time being.”

“Prowl, no,” he begged.

“Until you learn to cope without directing your anger at everyone else, we will be living apart. I will think about the procedure and inform Ratchet of my decision, then he will contact you.”

“Prowl…” Sideswipe started, then trailed off.

“You are still welcome to see them, but I am not going to be subjecting them to your anger any longer. Sunstreaker and I have already talked this over. He’ll stay with you to help you with anything you need. But you need to get it together. Even if I okay the procedure, you need to be prepared to live the rest of your life in that chair. You can’t live your life relying on a dream.”

Sideswipe’s mouth moved but he said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would sway the strategist, particularly since he was right. He’d been letting his anger at his situation get the better of him, and Prowl and Sunstreaker had borne the brunt of it, being around him the most. He knew it was his fault that Prowl was moving out, but he didn't want him to.

The sparklings were the only thing keeping him sane. If he couldn't see them as much, he didn't know what he’d do. Prowl was wrong about one thing, though. He’d never be angry at the twins, no matter if they held a potential cure or not. They’d become his life. He lived to hold them and play with them and feed them. He could even bathe them with the elevated washtub in their washrack. They had a grand old time splashing each other and Sideswipe, and he often wound up as wet as them.

Prowl moved on toward their quarters. Sideswipe followed silently, his chair making a quiet whirring sound in the stillness of the corridor.

“Prowl? I'm sorry I've been an aft. I'm not going to try to excuse it, because that would just be immature and selfish. I swear I'll do better,” he said when they paused at the door to input the code.

“I'm glad. But that doesn't change my decision. Once you've proven yourself, we'll move back in, but not before.”

“When are you moving?”

“Immediately. Sunstreaker should have everything packed up and will help me carry it and the sparklings to my former quarters.”

“I wish you wouldn't go.”

“As I said, I'm not going to subject my sparklings to your anger issues. You might want to get help with them. Ratchet might be able to help you, or at least find someone who can.” He looked at Sideswipe, honesty in every line of his face. “I don't _want_ to go. I love living with the two of you when you're in a good mood. But I can't deal with the anger any longer. It makes _me_ angry and frustrated, and I can't deal with that. I can't have that in my life, personal or professional. I hope you can understand. I still love you and Sunstreaker, that hasn't changed. Hopefully this will be a short time apart, because it's killing me to have to do this.”

“I am so sorry,” was all he could say.

“Then prove it. Get help. Start adjusting to this life you've been dealt. Humans do it all the time. And some have more difficulty with it than others, but they do eventually adjust. And a lot of them with your sort of injury manage to do almost everything they used to. They find ways. I hope you can do the same. Put your determination and stubbornness to good use.”

The door opened to Sunstreaker playing on the floor with Beacon and Flare in the living area. Both sparklings’ heads snapped around to look at the door and they squealed simultaneously and began to crawl toward their parents.

“Can I at least say goodbye to them?” Sideswipe asked.

“Of course. I said you are welcome to see them, and I meant it. I'm not going to keep you from them. I just don't want them in the environment you've created here. It's become toxic.”

Prowl picked up Beacon and placed him in Sideswipe's lap, then did the same with Flare. Sideswipe hugged the two of them tightly and they hugged back. They each kissed a cheek with a _mwah_ sound and purred contentedly.

“I'm going to miss you two,” Sideswipe said, choking up. “Bathtime especially.” They perked up even more at the mention of their favourite time of day, but knew it wasn't time for it yet.

Sideswipe hugged them again and followed it with kisses. “I'll see you tomorrow. Promise.”

Prowl and Sunstreaker picked the twins up and left the ‘house’. As soon as the door closed, Sideswipe broke down in tears.

He was still crying when Sunstreaker came back. The golden twin wrapped his brother in his arms as well as he was able and just held him, letting him get his emotions out.

“I think I need to go to bed,” Sideswipe said after he’d cried himself out. He manoeuvred his chair to the berthroom and next to the berth. He tried levering himself out of the chair and into the berth, but misjudged the distance and very nearly fell except his brother was there to catch him.

Sunstreaker helped Sides into the berth and arranged him comfortably, then kissed him goodnight. He sat there at Sideswipe's request, stroking his helm until the former frontliner fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gods, I am soooo sorry for taking so long to write more on this story. Depression hit hard and I lost all ability to write for about six months. I'm doing a bit better now and managed to get a bunch of writing done this week, so it's update time!

Sideswipe slipped into a deeper depression. He lost interest in everything except Beacon and Flare and Prowl. He half-sparkedly worked at his physical therapy, consternating First Aid to no end. He slept more and more, only really waking for time with the sparklings or to refuel or for his appointments.

Sunstreaker grew increasingly impatient with his brother. Once, after the twins had left with Prowl and Sideswipe had slipped back into his now-customary melancholy, he snapped at him, “You’re never going to get them back like this!”

Sideswipe snapped back, and it devolved into a yelling match. The red mech hurled vitriol at his brother unceasingly until Sunstreaker stalked out of their quarters, then continued to scream to the room in general for several minutes. He retreated to the berthroom then, and managed to scoot himself into the berth from his chair.

It took several hours before he could fall into blessed unconsciousness.

*

“He’s only ever happy when Beacon and Flare are around. He yells at me constantly, and I’ve seriously considered moving out, except he needs someone around to help him. I try to get him to do things himself and he just… doesn’t. It’s driving me crazy. All he does is sleep and yell, except when Prowl’s over with the twins. At least he can get himself into the berth now.”

Ratchet leaned back in his chair and took a pull from the glass of high grade he held. “There’s not much I can do, Sunstreaker. He’s got to pull through this himself. I’m here if he wants to talk, but if he doesn’t want to change, he’s not going to. Something about his current mindset seems to be rewarding to him. I don’t like to suggest it, but maybe keeping the sparklings from him would give him a reason to get help.”

“I don’t like the idea, but I’ll talk to Prowl, see what he thinks. I keep worrying that he’s going to snap at the twins for something, and neither Prowl nor I will stand for that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Honestly, I’m surprised _you’ve_ dealt with his attitude for this long.”

Sunstreaker downed half of his glass before answering. “He’s my brother, and I think that’s the only thing keeping me there right now. Anyone else I would have beaten. Can’t beat him, though; he can’t defend himself. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to go wail on sparring drones because of him.”

Ratchet barked a laugh. “So you’re the one Wheeljack keeps griping about. He’s tired of constantly fixing those drones; it takes time away from his projects.”

“Well, as long as Sides stays this way, he’s going to have drones to fix. Better than tearing into another Autobot.”

“Definitely,” Ratchet said with a sage nod. “Wheeljack may not appreciate it, but I certainly do. And I’m sure everyone else would agree with me.”

“I’m sure they do. Can’t risk getting thrown in the brig. Or worse, kicked out of the army. Especially since Sides needs help and Prowl needs support.”

Ratchet frowned. “Who told you you’d get kicked out of the army?”

“Optimus. After I kicked the slag out of Smokey. He said I don’t think about the consequences of my actions and that if I beat on someone again, I’d get kicked out.”

The frown deepened into a scowl. “I’m not saying it’s okay to beat on someone else, but he shouldn’t have threatened you with that.”

“Well, he was right. I didn’t think about the consequences beyond knowing I’d get thrown into the brig. And I didn’t care, even though I _hate_ the brig. But that was before the sparklings and before Sides…” He trailed off.

“I understand. Looks like you’re growing up, which is honestly something that I never thought would happen in relation to you or your brother.”

Sunstreaker glowered. Ratchet laughed and gave the golden mech a pointed look until the corner of his mouth lifted slightly and the warrior shook his head.

He downed the rest of his high grade and rose. “I’d better get back in case Sides needs me. It was good to talk, though. Might have to make this a habit.”

“You’re welcome any time. The break is appreciated,” Ratchet said with a smile.

“Thanks.”

*

“I’m sorry, Sideswipe. They just went down for a nap.” Prowl shook his head lightly.

“Well, can I stay and talk to you until they wake up?”

“I have a lot of work I need to get done, and it requires most of my attention. I would be a poor conversational partner. Perhaps later.”

Sideswipe frowned. “This is the third day in a row that I haven’t gotten to see them. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to keep me from them.”

Prowl’s doorwings flicked involuntarily, and he kept his field carefully close to himself. “Sideswipe,” he said, voice pinched, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see them for the time being. I think it would be better for everyone involved if you stayed away until you can get yourself under control. I’m not going to have you screaming at my sparklings again. I don’t like it, but I cannot tolerate that. You scared poor Beacon into silence. He still hasn’t made any noise.”

Sideswipe hung his head. “I really am sorry for that. I didn’t _mean_ to yell at him.”

“The fact remains that you did, and you _won’t_ do it again. Go to Ratchet, get help with your anger problems. I don’t want to keep the sparklings from you, but you give me no choice.”

Anger seethed within Sideswipe, just below the surface, and he was surprised at the strength of it. He managed to keep from spitting insults at the Praxian, but just barely. He just spun his chair around and headed out, away from Prowl, away from everything. He passed through the entrance to the _Ark_ , ignoring the calls from the pair standing sentry, and continued out into the scorching midday desert.

*

Ratchet found him later that afternoon, sprawled out face up in the sand, chair abandoned a few metres away, optics closed against the glare of the sun. His systems were in recharge mode according to the medic’s scanners, and he paused and looked him over for a moment before pulling a large wrench from subspace.

He rapped heavily on the black helm with the tool until Sideswipe’s optics popped open and he batted the thing away with a growl.

“Stop it!” he spat, ire growing when Ratchet poked him again. He grabbed the wrench and twisted it out of Ratchet’s grip, then turned it on its owner’s shin. “How do _you_ like it?” Each word was punctuated by a strike of the wrench against white armour.

Ratchet looked nearly murderous, but all he did was scoop Sides up from where he lay and deposit him back into his chair, divesting him of the wrench in the process. “You are not to leave the _Ark_ again, do you understand me? I can’t believe you just took off like that without telling anyone where you were going or when you’d be back. Wait, yes, I can. It’s _you_ , after all. You leave again, I’ll bolt you to your bunk when I find you. I’m seriously considering just going ahead and doing so when we get back.”

Sideswipe sat in stony, stubborn silence as Ratchet pushed him back to the ship. He ignored all the ranting from behind him, then when that stopped, he ignored the questions tossed his way. He was deep in a full-blown sulk when they finally crossed the threshold of the ship, his chin jutting out and his optics glaring at anything and everything they landed on.

Ratchet handed him off to Sunstreaker at their quarters. They spoke for a few moments, Sideswipe still ignoring everything, then Sunstreaker pushed him into the living room and left him there while he prepared some energon.

When the warm cube was pushed into his hand, Sideswipe refused to grab hold of it. Glowing liquid slopped against the sides of the container, threatening to spill over, and still he ignored it. Sunstreaker glowered at his twin and set the cube on the table. He returned to stand in front of the red mech, arms crossed over his chest, field rife with irritation.

“What the Pit did you think you were doing?” he asked. “What would you have done if a ‘Con had found you out there? Bite his kneecaps? Gnaw on his ankles? Primus, you’re thick. You _know_ if you got yourself scrapped, you’d be taking me out as well, and where would that leave Prowl?”

Sideswipe glared harder, refusing to look at his brother. Sunstreaker stared him down for several long minutes, but the former frontliner never moved, never blinked. It was like staring down a statue, and Sunstreaker had no interest in that.

“Fine, you don’t want to talk, don’t. I’m going to see Prowl. You do your little sulking thing all you want; I’m not going to deal with it. Fuel’s on the table. Don’t bother waiting up.”

Just as he was heading out the door, the golden mech turned and said, “You do know you’re only hurting yourself in the long run, right? Get over yourself and start acting like you actually want Prowl and the twins back. Because like this? It’ll never happen.”

*

Sunstreaker didn’t come back that night.

Sideswipe threw everything he could get his hands on. He managed to knock over the chairs in the living area and the side tables lay at the base of the walls, splintered from the force of impact. Dull pink energon puddled on one of the rugs where he’d thrown the cube Sunny had prepared for him, and shards of glass lay in and around the puddle.

His rage deepened as he imagined what Prowl and his brother were doing. Playing with the sparklings during the day, making passionate love through the night. Enjoying each other’s company like they never did when Sideswipe was around.

Self-loathing wrapped itself around his spark as he realised that _he_ didn’t care for his own company. And if he didn’t care for his own company, how could he expect anyone else to? That realisation led to some deep, painful thought, and when Sunny didn’t come back for the second night, he went to bed with a heavy decision made.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18.2.2018 - I have reworked this chapter to include new content for anyone who is re-reading this since I first posted it on 28.1.2018.

Sideswipe reported in a little early for his physical therapy and went to Ratchet’s office. The head medic looked up and greeted him.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I need help. I need to get rid of all this anger I have built up.”

“What brought this on?”

“Prowl left with the sparklings and won’t let me see them now. Said I was too angry all the time... and he's right. He said you could help me, or at least find someone who can. And Sunny hasn’t been home in a couple of nights. I don’t want to be alone any more.”

Ratchet looked him over, and Sideswipe got the feeling he was being scanned. “Something like this, I'd recommend Smokescreen. He's got the training to help you deal with it. I've got some psych training, but he has more. I can set up an appointment for you if you want.”

“Do you think he would see me? After what Sunny did to him?”

“You’re not your brother, and yes, I think he would. Do you want me to set something up?”

“Please. I need to get Prowl and the twins back. I love them so much, and the idea of losing them scares the slag out of me. And that's what this feels like.”

“You go do your therapy and I'll contact Smokey. Come back after and I should have an appointment for you.”

“Thanks, Ratchet. And I'm sorry I've been an aft.”

“You've had a rough time of it. I expected something like that. But apology accepted. Though you _really_ need to apologise to your brother. And Prowl.”

Sides left the office feeling lighter than he had since he’d woken up. His therapy went well, all joints still moving smoothly. First Aid remarked on his attitude today, and he explained the situation.

“So you're finally going to try to adjust, are you?” the junior medic asked.

“Yeah. I'm gonna have to eventually anyway, so now is as good a time as any, right?”

“It's too bad it came down to this to get that through your head, but I'm glad you're making the effort now.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He sighed. “Well, better go. Ratchet should have an appointment for me with Smokey.”

“Good luck,” Aid said.

“Thanks.”

*

It took a few tries to get hold of Smokescreen. When the exiled Praxian finally picked up his comm line and croaked out a greeting, Ratchet couldn't help but laugh.

::You sound like slag.::

::Nice to hear from you, too. It's my day off. Go away.::

Ratchet could practically see the mech cover his optics and flop down onto his berth. ::Can't. Got a patient for you.::

::Ratchet,:: the other voice said, no mirth and quite a bit of pain in his voice, ::it is my _day off_. That means no patients, no duty, nothing but my lovely berth and the quiet darkness. Now kindly fuck off.::

::It's Sideswipe.::

::And your point is...?::

::My point is that he's seen how much of an aft he's been and wants help changing that. You're best suited to that kind of work.::

There was a long pause, long enough for Ratchet to wonder if Smokey'd drifted off, before a response came. ::Not today. And no Sunstreaker.::

::Yes, today. No time like the present to get started on him. And no Sunstreaker.::

::...I don't think you understand what a day off is. And last night was poker night. I'm not fit for public consumption today.::

Ratchet rolled his optics. ::I'll give you something for the hangover, okay? I'll even hand-deliver it. Just do this for me. The kid's a mess and needs help.::

There was another long pause, then, ::Fine. Last appointment of the day. You owe me.::

::Thanks, Smokey. I'll let him know, and I'll be by in an hour with that treatment.::

A grunt was his only reply as the connection cut.

*

Sideswipe returned to Ratchet's office and was informed that Smokescreen could see him later that day. Ratchet said he’d explained the situation, so Smokey would have an idea of what he was working with. Sideswipe thanked him and headed to Prowl’s quarters to see if the strategist was there.

He rang for entry and the door slid open to the sounds of crying sparklings. Prowl was trying to get them both down to be fed, but they didn't like the feeling of the pillows on their sensory panels.

“Here, give me one,” he said, moving his chair around the sofa.

Prowl looked up at him in wary relief and handed over Flare. “You have impeccable timing.”

“I try.” He settled Flare in the crook of his arm and popped the feeding line. The sparkling latched on as though his life depended upon it. “I can't stay for too long because I have a psych appointment later, but I'll stay until then, if that's all right with you.”

“It's absolutely okay. They've been good until I tried to feed them. I do need to get some work done, though. It gets hard to work while watching two sparklings sometimes. Fortunately, they don't have too many places they can go and nothing to get into but their toys.”

“Well, I'll play with them after they're fed and you can work at least until I have to leave.”

Prowl smiled. “Thank you.”

“I'm happy to do it. I’ve missed them. And you.”

“Sideswipe…”

“No, don't worry, I'm not here to make you feel bad about moving out. I just wanted to let you know you were missed. I'm trying, Prowl. I hope you'll be able to see that soon.”

“I hope so, too.”

*

“I’d be happy if I could just _stand_ again, I think. You have no idea how hard it is to get my own energon sitting down. Everything’s _just_ out of reach. And I’m not even going to get into how hard it is to get myself clean in the washrack.”

Smokescreen frowned. “I can only imagine the difficulties you’re going through based off my own experience with being laid up in Medbay. It’s not easy just laying there, or sitting, in your case.” He shifted in his chair and briefly touched a hand to his helm, closing his optics for a couple of seconds. “Ratchet said he had to remove your transformation cog. How do you feel about that?”

“It sucks aft. But I’d rather be alive without it than dead with it. Honestly, I haven’t thought about that all that much. I’m just so frustrated at not being able to stand or walk that it hasn’t really crossed my mind.” He cocked his head and peered at Smokey from under his helm. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Minor headache. Nothing I can’t handle.” He brushed off Sideswipe’s concern with a shrug. “How can I help you? You seem pretty okay to me right now. Honestly, from Ratchet’s comments, I was expecting a ticking time bomb, just waiting for someone to say the wrong thing to blow up. But here you are, talking like you usually do, and you seem stable enough.”

Sideswipe blew out a vent. “I don’t know. I need something to do or _something_. If I don’t have anything to do or I get too much time to think, I get frustrated and angry. Mostly with Skywarp, but I’ve blamed Ratchet and Sunny and Prowl sometimes, too, and I _know_ none of this is their fault. I’ve tried monitor duty and sentry duty; neither one works because there’s just so much _time_. I’ve snapped at Red when he asked me a simple question, and there’s only so much to talk about on sentry duty. Mechs pussyfoot around me and I don’t know if it’s because I got hurt so bad or because I get angry easier now. Cliffjumper’s complained about there being two Sunnys around now, the fragger.”

“Not in Sunstreaker’s hearing, I’m assuming.”

“Oh yeah. Right there in the lounge.” Smokescreen’s optics rounded. “Sunny was _pissed_ , but he actually held himself back pretty well. Just popped the little leprechaun on the top of the helm as we left. Left a bit of a dent, but not much else. Got some scutwork for it, but no actual brig time.”

“Huh. What do you know?” Smokescreen said with a thoughtful look.

“I know, right?” Sideswipe laughed. “I wonder what happened to him…”

*

Prowl and Sunstreaker watched Beacon and Sideswipe sleep in his chair. The sparkling still suckled periodically on the feeding line in Sides’ wrist, but they were both _out_. Sideswipe’s helm was aimed at the ceiling and his mouth was open, occasional short snores escaping. Beacon was tucked in close to the red mech’s torso, safely kept from falling by the supportive arms of his sire. Flare waved his arms at Sunstreaker from where he lay on his lap, gurgling and cooing quietly. The golden mech had a soft, beautiful smile on his face that Prowl wished would rest there more often.

“Should we wake him?” Prowl asked after another snore.

“If you’re tired of the noise, go ahead. This is the best he’s slept for weeks, though.” Sunstreaker poked Flare in the belly, prompting a giggle. “He really hasn’t been the same since you moved out. He got worse for a while, though I didn’t tell you just _how_ bad. Talking to Smokescreen now actually seems to be helping, at least a little. They’re trying to find something Sides can do to keep himself busy while he adjusts to his situation. I think he just needs a hobby.”

Prowl got a thoughtful look on his face.

“Out with it,” Sunstreaker said after a few minutes of silence only broken by Sideswipe’s snores and the giggles and coos of the sparkling on his lap. “You’ve got something brewing in that processor of yours, I know it.”

“I need to talk to Ironhide. I had an idea and I think it would be good for Sideswipe.” Prowl reached over and tickled Flare’s neck, prompting more giggles from the red sparkling.

“Ironhide? You’re not seriously thinking of putting Sides in charge of combat training, right?”

“No. Nothing like that. It’s his _other_ position that I was thinking of.”

Sunstreaker quirked a brow ridge. “Supply Officer?”

Prowl hummed in confirmation. “It doesn’t _require_ walking or standing, and I think he would be remarkable at it. Just from his pranks, I know he can get hold of anything he wants, and talking to suppliers would keep him occupied. We sometimes have trouble with them and getting our shipments on time.”

“Sounds like an idea.” Flare yawned and blinked slowly. Sunstreaker moved him up to rest on his shoulder, the sparkling’s head nestling neatly into the crook of his neck. “If you want to go talk to Ironhide now, I’ll watch the kids.”

“Thank you. I think I will.” He rose and stretched, his doorwings arching out and back, then leaned down to give Sunstreaker a kiss. He kissed Sideswipe on the cheek and each sparkling on the helm, then left.

*

“Wait. They’re _your_ sparklings?” Smokescreen asked incredulously.

“Yeah? I thought everyone knew that.”

Blue doorwings flicked in embarrassment. “I... was under the impression they were Sunstreaker’s…” he admitted.

Sideswipe busted out laughing. “No, Sunny never had the nerve to say anything to Prowl. I didn’t even know he _liked_ him until Ratchet pointed it out after Prowl collapsed that first time.”

“Oh,” was all the Praxian could think to say.

“Anyway, you should have seen them…”

*

“I hear you’re an officer now.” Smokescreen reclined in his chair.

“Yep. Junior officer in Supply. Honestly never thought I’d be an officer at all. ‘Course, I never thought any of this would happen to me. Thought I’d be on the front lines until either the war was over or me or Sunny finally caught the wrong end of a bullet.”

“You did. That’s why you’re in that chair.”

Sideswipe gave him a withering look. “I _know_. You know what I meant.”

Blue hands came up in a surrender pose. “I know, I know.” Smokescreen put his hands down. “How do you like the position?”

“It’s okay. I’m still learning, but I think it’ll be good once I’m used to it. Something’s always needing gotten, and someone's always being a pain, so it should keep me busy enough. I’ll take over from Ironhide once I’m all trained up. Then I’ll be fully in charge of Supply. Which will be interesting. I’ll be able to requisition pretty much anything I want. The only downside is it has to go through Red Alert when it gets here...”

*

Sideswipe was laying on the floor on his side, watching Beacon and Flare play. Whenever they came close enough, he would reach out and tickle-poke them in the side, prompting squeals of glee and a quick retreat. They would go back to playing with whatever they were closest to for a little bit, then crawl back toward their sire for another round of tickles.

Prowl and Sunstreaker sat at the ‘kitchen’ table, sipping energon and talking. Prowl was happy to see the wide smile on Sideswipe’s face. He seemed more relaxed these days, less likely to snap at anyone. He was much closer to his old self than he had been since he’d woken up from his coma.

It was getting late, past the time when Prowl would usually leave with the sparklings, but he made no move to go. Sideswipe wasn’t going to say anything, either. He was elated that he was getting more time with his twins, especially since they were playing directly with him.

Beacon crawled intently toward his sire, taking advantage of a momentary lapse in attention, and with a triumphant chirp pulled himself up so he was looking over Sideswipe’s waist. Little fingers wiggled on white metal and Sideswipe laughed and swooped the sparkling up while letting himself fall onto his back. Beacon squealed and giggled, his arms waving and legs kicking wildly as he was held up in the air above the red mech.

Flare decided he wanted in on the action, too, and pulled himself up onto his sire’s chest, directly under his twin.

“Help, I’m being attacked!” Sideswipe was almost incoherent with laughter, but his arms never wavered in holding up the white twin. “Sunny, Prowl, save me!”

Sunstreaker tossed one of the twins’ smaller plush toys at his brother’s head. “Save yourself,” he said, but he was laughing himself.

Prowl was smiling when he plucked Beacon from Sideswipe’s hands. Sideswipe smiled back, so very happy, then turned his attention to his little attacker.

“Ah _ha_! I have you now!” Sideswipe declared and proceeded to tickle his mini-me into gales of giggles, then swooped him up just like he had Beacon.

Flare hiccoughed and partially-processed sparkling energon came up to splatter all over Sideswipe’s face and neck. Sunstreaker grabbed a towel and went to rescue his twin, who was groaning and moaning about being spit up on. He dropped the towel on Sideswipe’s face and picked Flare out of his hands.

Sideswipe dragged the towel over his face, mopping up energon from the corners where his helm met his face. “Bleh! That’s nasty, Flare,” he said while wiping up the energon on his neck and shoulders. “I’m gonna need a shower.”

Sunstreaker handed Flare off to Prowl and pulled his brother up to get him back into his chair. “Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

As they passed, Sideswipe touched Prowl’s hip and said, “Don’t leave before I’m back?”

Prowl looked down at him softly. “I won’t.”

*

They came back out to find Prowl sitting on the sofa, reading from a datapad with no sparklings in sight. The datapad disappeared as they neared.

“I put them down in their room,” he answered Sideswipe’s question before he could ask it. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“Is this a trick question?” Sideswipe asked.

“No. No tricks. I would like to stay here with the two of you. Is that acceptable?”

“More than. We’d love to have you, right Sunny?”

The yellow mech nodded. “Missed having you between us.”

“It won’t be an every night thing yet, but I’ve also missed you and I don’t feel like walking back to my quarters tonight. Especially since the twins are already asleep here.”

“You’re welcome any time, _every_ time. You don’t have to ask to stay. This is your apartment as much as it is ours.”

“Then take me to bed,” Prowl said with a little ‘come hither’ flick of his wings.

Neither twin had to be asked twice.

*

A couple of weeks later, Prowl knocked on the doorjamb of Ratchet’s office to get his attention. The medic waved him in and he sat in the chair on the patient side of the desk.

“I have my apprehensions about this, but I give my permission for you to harvest the cells from Beacon and Flare. I hope it works.”

“I appreciate this, Prowl. I know how hard it had to have been to make the decision.”

“No, you don't. You don't have any sparklings, and you're not Praxian. I will likely never have another sparkling, so if something goes wrong, that's it. Beacon and Flare are my life, and I would die before letting anything happen to them. So I'm trusting you with three lives, plus Sideswipe's.”

“I will do my utmost to preserve those lives in my care. You know this.”

“I do, but I needed to say it. These are my sparklings.”

“I understand.” Ratchet rose and came around the desk. He pulled Prowl to his feet and embraced him. Prowl hugged back hard, blinking back cleansing fluid. “I'll call Sideswipe in later and tell him. We'll arrange a day for the surgeries as soon as possible so you don't have too much anxiety over this. Okay?”

“Thank you.”

*

“Sunny, he said yes! The surgeries are set for tomorrow. Ratchet said there was no sense in waiting any longer since we all know how things are supposed to go. And the risks involved.”

“I'm sure he didn't want Prowl worrying too much for too long, either. Because you know he will.”

“I know. Wish I was there with him. I don't know if he’d let me, though.”

Sunstreaker stood. “Only one way to find out.” He grabbed the handles on the back of Sideswipe's chair and steered him out into the corridor.

He pushed him all the way to Prowl's quarters and rang for entry. It took a moment - it was the sparklings’ bedtime - but eventually the door opened and once he registered who was there, Prowl just collapsed onto Sideswipe and hugged him. Sideswipe hugged back and gathered Prowl into his lap as well as he could.

Sunstreaker pushed the chair into Prowl’s quarters, being careful of Prowl’s feet hanging over the side of the chair. He took them to the sofa and parked the chair, then sat on the arm of the sofa and hugged them both. It almost felt like they were one big, happy family again, but there was the pall of the situation hanging over them. Tomorrow morning, three of their five-person family would be going under Ratchet’s scalpel, and there was no guarantee that the procedures would be successful.

*

Ratchet was in Medbay bright and early, going over the procedures again and again. He checked the surgery bay, making sure he had all the tools he would need and that they were in order. He pored over both sets of twins’ medical records again, looking for anything that might complicate the surgeries.

First Aid came in about an hour before the surgeries were scheduled, followed shortly by Hoist. The latter would watch over the Medbay while Ratchet and First Aid were busy with the twins and Sideswipe.

Prowl showed up with Beacon and Flare about fifteen minutes early, worried nearly out of his mind. He kept hugging the twins and kissing their little helms like it was the last time he was going to see them. Ratchet offered a mild sedative, nothing that would knock him out but would help calm him down, and the strategist took it gladly.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe arrived ten minutes later, and Prowl reluctantly let go of the fussy sparklings so their sire could hold them for a few minutes before they were to go under. Sideswipe held them as tightly as they would let him without squalling, murmuring to them how much he loved them. Sunstreaker stroked their sensory panels calmingly, and they both started up the quiet droning noise they made when they were stressed and trying to self-soothe.

Ratchet emerged from the surgical suite and said, “It’s time.”

Sideswipe passed the sparklings back to Prowl, who took them into the suite. He came back out several minutes later with a red hand between his doorwings, its owner propelling the Praxian from the room. The door closed and locked before Prowl could turn back around and he leaned his chevron against it, optics closed and leaking cleansing fluid down his cheeks.

Sunstreaker approached Prowl and pulled him into a tight embrace, telling him that Ratchet would take care of the sparklings and that everything would be okay. Prowl collapsed into the hug, his legs giving out on him. Sunstreaker helped him over to where Sideswipe’s chair was parked by a bench and sat him down between himself and his brother. Both twins comforted the Praxian as well as they were able, and Prowl tried to think about anything other than his twins undergoing surgery at such a young age.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): [ 19.](http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/384507.html#cutid1) Prowl and Sideswipe sleep together. They aren't in love, merely friends, and it was a one time thing. But then they learn Prowl is carrying. Prowl says Sideswipe doesn't have to stay. What will Sides do?  
> [ 9.](http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/378888.html#cutid1)One in ten Praxian pregnancies results in miscarriage. Of those, one in three carriers follow their sparkling into death. Even 'healthy' pregnancies are difficult. Praxians have kept this a closely guarded secret as they see it as Primus' disapproval/punishment over some mystery offence. But what will happen when Prowl gets pregnant and everyone's wondering why he's more resigned than excited? And why Smokescreen and Bluestreak are so terrified for him?  
> [ REQ: G1, Prowl/any or various, Datsun sandwich, double penetration](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12496128#t12496128)


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